Bittersweet Welcome
by BookCaseGirl
Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Status: **In-Progress

**Rating: **T for now; some chapters could possibly be M

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **I've been listening to the song "From the Stars" by White Lies a lot lately, and all I ever think of when I listen to that song is Chuck Bass. So, please, if you read this particular chapter, try and listen to the song if you can. I have the lyrics up in there as well. I know that I promised to do a sequel for 'Brightness', and I still plan on doing that at some point. I just like this better right now. I'm thinking of this as a shorter story though, maybe 10-15 chapters only. And with that, I'm sure I could easily get a sequel started within the next couple of weeks. Again, if you read this, **please** try and listen to the song. Unless you hate it, then I won't force you, hah

**Special Note and Disclaimer: _I don't own Gossip Girl_** and **_thank you so much to Michelle_** for help with the title idea and also for just encouraging me and looking this over.

* * *

_I saw a friend that I once knew at a funeral,  
He took the time out to be seen._

Chuck walked into the church, not caring in the least that it was the middle of the funeral and he was entirely under dressed. He hadn't even wanted to come to this damn thing; he knew it would be too hard, that he wouldn't be able to handle it.

Fifteen years. Fifteen long and tough years spent boozing away all his guilt and sadness and sleeping around without a care. And now he had to face what he had left so long ago. Chuck had to deal with the people that he had left behind, the mess that he hadn't known was created after he left.

He saw only one place open, right at the front of the line of pews. He looked to see who would be sitting with him, and gulped deeply as he sat down, pressing himself as close as possible to the armrest nearest the aisle. Chuck looked over at Blair, who had a black veil in front of her face – always dressed appropriately – and was dabbing under her obviously baggy eyes with a light blue handkerchief.

_His eyes kept glancing to the hour hand on the gold watch, that he'd been given by a magazine._  
_He didn't cry when the priest gave the sermon,_

Tearing his eyes away from her for fear of getting caught, he took a deep breath and glanced down at his gold watch. He looked up at the man giving the sermon for a person he had once called his best friend. It seemed every tear that he had had inside of himself had died when he'd mourned his father all those years ago.

_Just pulled up the woolen collar on his fleece._

Chuck couldn't pay attention to the things that the priest said about Nate. It hurt too much; it cut too deeply to hear about the life that he had lived while being _married _to the woman that Nate _knew_ Chuck loved. All the happiness and sniffles were too much for him and he pulled up his uncharacteristic choice of wardrobe – a gray fleece sweater – so that it covered a clearing of his throat.

_Crossed his arms, gave a sigh and checked the time again,  
As he sat inches from the wife of the deceased._

Uncomfortable didn't really begin to describe how he felt where he was sitting. Looking at his watch again, he sighed into the collar that had been pulled up around the lower portion of his face, and looked around at the other attendants of Nathanial Archibald's funeral.

There was Serena, predictably with Dan; there were three little girls sitting in between them and he smirked at how everything had fallen into place for the perfect girl of New York City. Lily and Rufus were in the seats that were farthest back in the church, with Jenny and a man he had never seen before sitting a few feet down from them. He turned his face back to Blair, who was now looking at him.

She had been hurt the most, he knew it. When he left, he had left a piece of himself with her, though. The playful and carefree person that he was around her; she had kept that and he hadn't been able to carry it with him on the plane to Hong Kong when he took his place there as CEO of Bass Industries. What he saw in her eyes then was so unintelligible that it baffled him to even give them the slightest glance, because he was instantly lost in them.

Blair looked pleasantly surprised at first, and then another tear slid down her cheek as she registered that he really was there. His eyes shifted to look at the young lady that sat next to Blair on the hard wooden bench. She had curls down to her hips and rosy cheeks that matched her mother's so much he had to look away instantly before he himself started crying when he least expected it.

He could tell that she'd noticed his glance and she seemingly dismissed it. She must have thought that he had missed a lot and was trying to catch up. In a way he was; but from a different view, he was trying to imprint this into his brain so that the memory would last him the rest of his life this time. He hadn't one reason to come back after this day, this weekend.

If he came back, he would never be able to leave again.

He looked to the boy that sat next to the Golden Boy and Queen B's daughter. His eyes teared up as he instantly recognized the child. He looked considerably older than the girl, almost...shit, fifteen. Sixteen even. His eyes trailed back up to hers, but she was focused once again on the priest and his touching eulogy for Nate.

Chuck got up and walked out. He felt the pairs of eyes on him – blue, brown, the darkest chocolate ones that followed him for the longest time – as he walked out, but paid them not the slightest bit of attention. He stood in the bitter cold of New York, remembering that it was one of the things he liked best about the city. The smell that was in the air – warm cinnamon from a nearby bakery and fires crackling in hotel lobbies that weren't far away – was unlike anything. It sure wasn't something he experienced anymore in Hong Kong.

As he pulled out his phone to call the car company for an escort back to the Palace – he'd rented his old room for purposes of nostalgia – he felt a presence behind him and rolled his eyes. Childish ways of smirks and eye-rolls seemed to come back to him when he re-visited his old home, and he almost laughed at that fact.

"Why did you leave." It wasn't a question, it was a statement, said by a dull and flat voice that was thick with wet tears.

"Stuffy," he grunted in reply.

"You know that isn't what I meant." Her voice was so unbearably different; he felt the need to shake her, get his old Blair back. But somehow he knew that after this day, this moment in time, she would never be the same again.

"I don't care to have this conversation now." That was him, always avoiding the inevitable when he knew as well as anyone else that it would just pop up again in his life one day.

"I do!" Blair's voice had volume now, shrill volume that shook him. Her eyes released more heartbreaking tears and he averted his gaze immediately. Watching her cry had never been a pastime that he'd enjoyed, especially when he knew he was the cause.

"Blair," Chuck said gently, his hand reaching out. She tore her own bony hands away from where his were about to touch her, and he felt something inside of him tear.

"Don't you dare," she said slowly, her voice menacing and low. "You can_not_ just come back here and grab my hands and say my name and expect everything to be okay again!" The tears were unmistakable now and Chuck looked her in the eyes. He would finish it this time.

"I still love you." His voice was strong, full of confidence and the potential of follow-through.

Then came the rejection.

She simply turned around, sniffling loudly and letting out a mirthless laugh. Walking back into the church, she threw a callous remark behind her shoulder that couldn't have been from her. He was convinced it was from a monster hidden deep within her that had taken her over and refused to give her back until she was done mourning her husband.

"Well, Chuck, you can rot with your supposed love for me, because then you'll know what my life has been like."

He felt a lump in his throat as the car finally arrived, black and sleek just as he remembered. When he got in, he instantly went to the fully stocked mini-fridge. _There you are, old friend. You seem to be the only one who is exactly the same. _He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig. Looking up at the driver, he realized even his old chauffeur had changed in the years he'd been gone.

_He took a chauffeur driven car back to his hotel,  
Passing through the sick streets where he was born  
He said "Driver, what's happened to these buildings? They all look run down and so alone."_

Chuck looked out the dark and tinted window of the limo and gazed up at all the changed buildings. It was the same route he had taken many days during his youth, but somehow, it was different. The tall structures looked sad and dilapidated. He pushed a button to lower the partition so he could speak with the driver.

"Excuse me...What happened to all those buildings?" His hand gestured to the window and the young driver glanced at them out of the corner of his eye. His response seemed old and tired, as if he got asked this question often.

"Given up," he stated shortly. "Economy didn't hold enough promise for 'em."

Well, the Upper East Side had changed after all.

Moments later, they were back at the front of the Palace Hotel. He opened the car door and stepped out into the dismal – yet somehow appropriate, given the occasion – rain with clouds that dusted the sky. He jogged lightly inside the revolving doors.

As soon as he arrived up in his suite, he placed the Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob and lay back on his luxurious and silky bed. It still smelled like his youth, of scotch and the Chanel No. 5 _she_ always wore.

He went to his closet and ran his hands over the array of colored suits that had once been so him. Now, he had gone to sheer business formal, he'd lost any personality that his clothing had once given him. It was back to basics, wearing gray and black suits accompanied by plain ties that showed no originality.

Chuck then walked over to the large bay window directly in the middle of the living room area. He saw only gray, with sparkling drops falling from the sky. They landed, one by one, on the ledge of the extravagant window that was rimmed with gold. He thought for a moment.

Somehow, he knew that he would always come back to this city. It was home, no matter how much Chuck tried to escape that. The raindrops fell back to the ground from which they originated, as with all living things that went back to the nest to finish off life – whether the length they had left was five or thirty years.

And that was why Chuck Bass would stay in the Upper East Side of New York. Because he had unfinished business, and he was home. For good.

_He catches raindrops on his window, it reminds him how we fall,  
From the stars back to our cities, where we've never felt so small_

Rain drops from his window making puddles in his hands,  
He thinks how quick the water's rising as another raindrop lands

He catches raindrops on his window, it reminds him how we fall,  
From the stars back to our cities, where we've never felt so small

Rain drops from his window making puddles in his hands,  
He thinks how quick the water's rising as another raindrop lands

**End Note: **I'm not sure if the lyrics were right, or the end was, but I'm hoping that that wasn't the big thing readers paid attention to. I had fun writing this part in all of its angst and drama, and the next chapter will have lots of answers, so please keep reading if you wish! I apologize for any stupid ass formatting issues. I tried to fix as much as I could, but whatever. Just so everyone is aware that I do know there will be some issues and I re-posted the stupid thing three times. I refuse to post again, hah.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Bittersweet Welcome

**Author:** BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Status:** In-Progress

**Rating:** T for now; some chapters could possibly be M

**Classification:** Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

**_Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information._**

**Author's Note: Most importantly, ****_thank you_****to everyone that reviewed! I so appreciate all of the encouraging words from my readers; they mean a ton (:** So I wrote that first chapter yesterday, and I felt the need to start continuing today. I just wanted to get some more done. I'm officially setting a goal for this story: it has to be done within five weeks. I have a band camp to be getting ready for the week after this'll be done, and I kinda don't want it looming over my head. In the mean time, I think I'll try and get that sequel started up a little so there'll be a couple of constant things for me to work on.

**Special Note and Disclaimer: **Thanks to Michelle for beta-ing this chapter! And please don't be under the same pathetic illusion I was for a while (even had to go through therapy :P); I _don't_ own Gossip Girl. However, I _do_ own the new character that's introduced (;.

* * *

Chuck cleared his throat and turned off the television, boredom seeping in through the seams of his mind. Laying back on the pillows of his luxurious bed, he put his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

All he had been able to do was think about Blair. She was the only thing that consumed his thoughts, and it killed him to keep flashing back. With each little memory – both from this afternoon and long ago – was a painful jab right smack in the middle of his chest. Finally, though, he managed to fall asleep.

But of course, sleep had to torture him as well.

_She giggled into his sport coat as they fell backwards onto the gold sofa in her living room. Shedding himself of the bothersome piece of clothing, his lips attacked hers again._

_He knew that it was bad, but _he _was a bad person. It was expected of him to do bad things, and that was why he was helping her cheat. Though Chuck knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he would end up being the person that was hurt in the end, he still helped her. Because he had those feelings that were still brewing deep within him._

_And those feelings prevented him from saying no to the little vixen that moved on top of him right now._

"_Mmm," she said dreamily into his neck. And he was so gone right then. He knew that he couldn't turn back now no matter how much he wanted to._

Chuck made himself wake up then, slapping his face and trying to wipe the memory-gone-dream away from his brain. He stood up and went to the bar on the other side of his suite. Picking up a heavy crystal bottle, he chugged a few gulps of whiskey (he'd found that it slid down a little easier than scotch) and looked at the clock above his mantle. It read, 2:13 A.M. If he got up now, he'd be a zombie the rest of the day. So he decided to chance another dream, and went back to bed to get more rest.

"_Dammit," he grunted while fumbling in the pocket of his long-ago discarded pants. "Do you have a condom?"_

_She whimpered when he got off of her, and it killed him, but he was afraid that his self control would dwindle more if he stayed on top of her. She pulled him back to her and flush against her horizontal body. He sighed when her tongue traced his ear and she solved the problem._

"_I'm on the pill," she whispered, and guided him inside of her, biting onto his shoulder and scraping her nails down his back as he slid farther and farther in._

_He felt the world slipping away and came as fast as ever, completely lost in the feeling of how natural and sensual the experience was._

He woke up again, this time in a cold sweat. Chuck wiped the perspiration from his brow and let out a heavy breath, picking up his alarm clock and looking at the time once again. 3:45 A.M. He threw it against the wall on the other side of the room and growled at nothing in particular, rising from the bed and going to take a shower.

A nice, long, _ice cold _shower.

_**********_

Blair couldn't focus on a damn thing. She had been trying to get Nate's affairs in order, and this went from the early day until well into the night (most of the time, the morning of the next day, in fact). But now, it was all shot to hell. He would probably end up being buried in Timbuktu with that psycho from the toxic hot dog stand on 7th.

She ran her hands through her hair for the millionth time and glanced up as she heard someone's shuffling feet on the hardwood floor of the kitchen. Pathetically, she expected Nate to be there, walking in with his arms stretching over his head and a yawn escaping his lips.

_That's not happening anymore Blair._

"Mom?" Victor's voice drifted into her thoughts. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" He was just like his _father_, trying to get her to go to bed. Always concerned for her safety. She emphasized the father to help convince herself, though she knew that after fifteen years of him growing up – and looking more and more like his father everyday – that her attempts were sadly futile.

"Sweetie, you should go. You've got school tomorrow," she walked up to him with folded arms and ruffled his hair. She almost needed to stand up on her tiptoes because somehow, he was impossibly tall. Well, tall compared to her.

He yawned and leaned down, wrapping his arms around her small frame and she felt a tear slip away from the corner of her eye.

"He wouldn't have wanted this, you know. He would have wanted us to move on," her son said quietly as he walked out.

"I know," she said quietly, looking out the rain-splattered window now.

When she was sure that he had left, she picked up her cellphone from its place on the table. Assuming that he would be staying in the usual place, she dialed the number that she knew so well and had used almost too often.

"Suite 1812."

_**********_

Chuck was just about to brush his teeth – damn, still only 4:30 – when the eerie ring of the hotel phone invaded what had once been his quiet room. He looked at it, challenging it with his eyes, as if it would stop with one look from the great Chuck Bass. No such luck, it continued to ring, and when he didn't answer, the annoying noise began again.

"What?" he hissed through the receiver. He hadn't expected anyone to want to contact him; not for a long time at least.

"It's Blair." Her voice was different from earlier; it was soft and timid, quiet and reserved, as if she didn't know what to say. There had been a time where this sort of thing happening would have made Chuck laugh out loud and break the ice; not tonight, because she was calling him. And Nate was dead.

It was different now, everything was.

"Hi," he said and he hadn't meant for it to come out as short as it did, but he knew there was no taking it back now.

A solid ten seconds of raw silence – save for the crackling of the phone line – followed and Chuck began to play with the cord for the telephone. Swinging and winding it around his finger once, and then twice, before switching and going the opposite way. He felt like a child, a hopeless little boy filled with nerves.

"I called for a reason," her voice was snappy and expectant. "I don't have all morning to wait for you to ask me the obvious question."

"Alright, I'll bite, Blair. Why did you call?" his voice matched hers now. The bitterness between them was unmistakable and it made his heart ache. He had been the cause of this; he really was a selfish and masochistic bastard.

"Just forget it. I never did." And the line went dead. Chuck sighed and felt his heart sink so it became level with his flipping stomach. He set the phone down next to the cradle and listened to the mesmerizing sound of the dial tone that eventually turned into an annoying "wah wah wah wah" signaling that the phone was off the hook.

He felt himself fall asleep once again, and didn't try to stop. Any dreams that came now couldn't be worse than the one from earlier.

_**********_

Blair felt her body shake uncontrollably as she let out sob after sob. And the truly unnerving thing was that it wasn't grieving over Nate. That was a minuscule part of it, but mostly it was _him._

She never thought that he would have the balls to show up again. When Chuck disappeared, he didn't come back. And when he left for good, you were a fool if you tried to contact him. It was a stupid way of dealing with things, but she knew that he hadn't really known that then. Leaving was his go-to solution for every problem.

Blair felt her eyes droop closed as she let a few things of that day come back to her. She couldn't sleep – she was a goddamn zombie – but she was able to rest her eyes and escape for small periods of time.

"_What is it?" he was out of breath. She knew her message had been a bit urgent, but she felt urgent at the time. She still did feel rushed and unbelievably upset at her carelessness._

_She hadn't thought that it would make a damn bit of difference. She'd only gone off the pill the day before, and figured there were still a few lasting remnants of effectiveness. So Blair had lied when she said she was on the pill, but it was because she thought that nothing would go wrong._

_The raw truth was that something did go wrong._

_His hands were on her shoulders, and his eyes bore into her own. The more she looked, the more innocent and carefree Chuck Bass seemed. He looked like a happy man. _

_Chuck looked like a man that would be devastated to know the news that she was about to tell him._

"_Blair..." he said, cautiously, his eyes searching hers. "What is it?" he repeated cautiously this time._

"_I'm...uh...I'm pregnant, Chuck." She wrung her hands, pulling away from him. _

_She could tell the fake enthusiasm right away. "That's great! Have you told Nate?" his eyes were bright – god, the acting was so old – and cheerful to make her feel as happy as him._

_Oh, so that was it. He thought it was Nate's._

"_No, I haven't told Nate, Chuck! I haven't told Nate because it isn't his _fucking _child!" Her voice was hoarse and filled with resentment for him. She knew that it was unreasonable and unfair, but she couldn't help it._

"_Shit," he muttered under his breath, beginning to pace. "Fuck, Blair! You said you were on the pill!" She was thankful that no one else was there to hear this little spat between them. If Gossip Girl – oh yes, she bitch was still alive and breathing. She would outlive them all; the damned could do that – got a hold of this information, she would be utterly destroyed._

"_I...Dammit," she screamed, arms flailing as she started to cry openly and uninhibited. _

_He walked closer to her and enveloped her in his own arms. Burying his nose in her hair, he told her of the plan that he'd developed, whispering in her ear._

"_Here's what we'll do," he began. "You tell Nate that it's his. I'm sure you two haven't exactly been careful -" that cut deep, and she knew he had meant for it to - "and he will be ecstatic. I'll leave. Go work overseas." She cried out, but the effect was lost because the noise was muffled by the sleeve of his shirt._

"_No," she said with finality, pulling away and looking Chuck in the eye. "You will _not _leave, Chuck. You can't leave," she whined, tears streaming down her face. She knew she had him when he drew her closer._

"_Alright, Blair. I won't leave," he murmured into the nape of her neck._

_But they both knew that he would. Blair just chose to give way to her __naiveté for the time being, and believe that Chuck wouldn't ever leave her._

_**********_

He didn't know how he ended up there. Didn't even remember making the phone-call to get the address, much less taking the car ride over to the apartment that he stood in front of at that moment. Chuck wasn't sure whether to knock or bolt, but he knew that bolting – especially if she was watching somehow – hadn't served him well in the past.

And so he reached up to the brass knocker and banged it down three times before putting his hands back in his pockets, casually glancing around. There wasn't anyone else in the hallway, and it was fairly barren save for a small oak wood table at the very end.

She opened the door, a towel in wrapped around her head turban-style and a silk robe around her slightly-curvier-from-childbirth body. He couldn't stop his eyes from doing the once-over that they did, but he did instantly regret it when she wrapped her arms around herself as if being caught naked. Based on the outlines he had briefly seen, though, she may as well have been.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her face stoic and unmoving.

"I thought we could talk. Seems we haven't exactly been able to civilly do that lately," he said, sticking his head in the small space that had opened up when the door swung open and looking around a little while bouncing on his toes.

He hadn't realized how close to her body he had been – the leaning in must have caused him to step forward a little involuntarily – until she cleared her throat loudly and stepped back. She held the door open a little more, but didn't say a word; just went back into the apartment, and disappeared into the sound of a slammed and locked door.

Chuck took that as his cue to walk in; he usually did have to invite himself.

**Final Note: **I just wanted to say, if I haven't before, that I am loving writing this story. It's almost - okay, more than almost - AU and I never really realized how fun that could and would be to write. Again, I totally appreciate all the wonderful feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **T for now; some could possibly be M

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: **__**After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **Again, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone that has reviewed. All of you are a big part of the reason that I have so much fun writing this. Also...happy belated 22nd to Ed (;! I may have chapter 4 up before the end of the day just because I feel like there's an awful lot of sadness in this, and I want some happiness soon...(I planned for Chapter 4 to be happier, ha). Sooo...Hope everyone enjoys!

**Disclaimer and Special Note: I don't own Gossip Girl **even though I really really wish I did...and _**thanks**_ to Michelle for beta-ing this chapter!

* * *

"So, what did you come here to talk about?" Blair asked nonchalantly. She had dressed and was sitting in front of Chuck in a black pencil skirt by Marc Jacobs and a flowing, sheer, red blouse that was tucked into the high waistband. Always dressed to impress, even when she was nervous. Wait, she wasn't nervous. So help her god, she was not _nervous._

_Damn Chuck Bass._

"The kid. He's mine, no?" He asked, once again going back to old child-like gestures. He waved his hand in the air as if encompassing the words that had left his mouth.

"Well I was under the _impression _that he was _Nate's_," Blair bit out icily.

"Blair, enough of the fucked up ice-queen act. It's getting old, and I'm getting tired of it," Chuck said with a sigh, leaning back in the comfortable leather reclining chair.

"_Chuck_," her voice was sickeningly sweet and soft to match her fake smile, "we both know the answer to your question, don't we? No need to discuss it further?" She glanced away from him to pick up her cup of chamomile tea and sip from it. "Now, what did you come for?"

"I came to talk about it. _Him._" He answered immediately, and she rolled her eyes.

"No."

"Yes."

"This is so damn stupid! I'm not going to get into a petty argument with you over whether to talk about our child or not!"

"So you admit that he's mine."

"I said no such thing." Blair brushed her hand along the bottom hem of her skirt and tried to ignore the feeling she was getting. It was a feeling of great nostalgia for their quick and witty banter. That was back already, and she still hated the man that sat across from her.

"But," he stood and went to kneel in front of her. Unconsciously, she pressed her back further into the chair that she was sitting in to get away from him. "You implied it." He enunciated each word with a small advance up her leg so that his hand was now resting on her thigh. She should have been utterly appalled, but instead found herself only staring down at him with weary eyes.

_**********_

She should have stopped him by now. What he was doing was beyond inappropriate and he knew that. But she brought out the devil in him that had been long dormant. He moved his hand away when he saw her eyes go glassy and streams of salt-water traveled down her pink cheeks.

Chuck felt himself falling away from the bones that held him upright; she was stripping him of everything that he was, everything that made him Chuck Bass. He couldn't think straight when she cried, and she knew that. Yet somehow, Chuck knew that she wasn't doing it on purpose this time. She was just that uncontrolled; she'd just lost her husband for Christ's sake.

Her chin quivered and her lips set in a wobbly line as sobs were emitted from inside of her. Blair's hands went around her waist as she fell forward in the chair, crying openly. He wondered for a moment if she'd forgotten that he was in the room, but then her eyes drifted up to find him and she spoke as best she could.

"I miss him," she blubbered. To his surprise, she got up from the chair and walked towards him, falling downwards into his arms. "I miss him." Her sobs repeated the words over and over and Chuck was there, he told her that. She just continued to cry and cry and just when he thought there couldn't possibly be any tears left, she went into another round.

They had fallen back on the carpeting and were facing one another. His hand had reached out to touch her and was stroking her hair. Her eyes were wide and still brimmed with a few leftover tears. Her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips and she let out a tired sigh, those few tears falling down her face.

"I missed you," she sobbed quietly, and eventually her sobs became softer and less noticeable as her eyes fell closed and her breathing became more steady.

Once he was sure that she was asleep, he got up from his place next to her on the floor. However, he heard a quiet whimper of loss coming from the floor and looked down at her. She had grasped thin air and was hugging it to herself, her face contorted in some strange mixture of pain and sadness.

And then Chuck Bass broke for the first time in fifteen years as he lay back down next to her and wrapped his arms around her body, snuggling into her and breathing in the familiar scent that he never really knew he'd been missing.

_**********_

She woke up without any idea of how much time had passed. What she was able to deduce was that she must have been insane, because _his_ arms were wrapped around her and she had little crusties in the corners of her eyes, telling her that she had been crying. And obviously the bastard had come to the rescue. Fuck him.

She pried the snoring man's hands off of her waist and sniffed in disapproval of herself and her actions as she got up and went into the kitchen. On the way, she grabbed the tea mugs from earlier and cursed when a bit of Chuck's tea sloshed onto her shirt.

As Blair set the mugs in the sink to be washed later, she felt a tear unexpectedly slip down her face. She was a Waldorf, dammit. Waldorf women's emotions were _never_ this unstable. But now, she was starting to see more and more that she'd changed from the strong person that she had once been. Blair wasn't as unbreakable as she used to be, and that killed her sometimes because people expected her to be great and flawless. She couldn't live up to that anymore. Not without Nate by her side.

_**********_

Chuck awoke to the distant sound of a radio and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He looked around and tried to figure out where the sound was coming from, and heard some shuffling in the kitchen. Getting up, he walked over to the doorway, leaning against the frame and looking at a frantic Blair.

Her eyes flicked up and met his in a frantic frenzy for the briefest of moments, and he saw tears that threatened to fall in her eyes. He strode into the kitchen and waited before approaching Blair, pretending to be very interested in a pair of matching wine glasses that had a million facets.

When he felt her eyes on him as she stopped, he went over to her and pulled her easy-to-manipulate body into a sitting position on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Chuck's eyes bore into her tired and weak ones, and he felt a pang come from somewhere within him.

"Forget what I said earlier," he began. "I think that _you _need to talk. About whatever happened. Because what you're doing, Blair, is not healthy."

"I can't talk to you," she muttered with a stone-face, looking down at the floor.

"Yes, you can." His hand crept across the marble of the table to grasp hers, but it was like cold jelly, so he instantly withdrew. This wasn't the same Blair he was dealing with.

"No, Chuck, I can't," her voice was flat and crackly, her eyes blank save for the overwhelming feeling of despair that was evident. "You wouldn't understand. And I just can't let you back in after everything. You weren't here, and that made a difference. I can't talk to you."

"What happened, Blair?" When she didn't respond, he took both of his hands this time and grasped one of hers, frantically trying to warm her.

"Nothing."

"What happened?" Chuck pressed, slightly less prying and a little more gentle this time.

Blair looked up into his eyes and started to cry again. This time, however, the tears were quiet and slipped down her face wordlessly. The only way to tell for sure that she was crying and not just getting rid of useless body liquid was by the way her voice gurgled when she spoke.

"We had a fight last week and he drove off," she said quietly, taking her hands away and looking out the window of the kitchen. "There was some sort of accident...he ran off into a ditch...I got a phone call at three thirty in the morning saying that he was _dead!_" Blair's voice rose at the end and she stood up, beginning to pace. He could tell that this was her way of trying to fight off what was inevitable, what would be inevitable during her entire period of grieving.

So Chuck stood along with her, and followed her to the other side of the room, where he cornered her and uncharacteristically embraced her for the second time that day. She let out an unsteady sigh into his shoulder and he unconsciously rocked her from side to side in a slow, soothing motion.

"Why didn't he tell me," she mumbled into his sleeve. "I was his wife; I should have known. What did I ever do to deserve this? We were happy..." Her mumbles were getting more and more incoherent and eventually they just disappeared into the bubbling wetness that came from her eyes and throat simultaneously.

He didn't know how to handle this. Chuck didn't want to fuck up this time, but then again, he wasn't sure that it would be him doing the fucking up. He had the strange feeling that something in the universe was plotting against him, and Blair would banish him again (even though she hadn't consciously been the one to banish him in the first place all that time ago).

And so Chuck Bass held a breaking Blair Waldorf _(-Archibald_, but he didn't care to correct himself at that moment in time) in his arms, because slowly, he was breaking too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **T for now; some could possibly be M

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: **__**After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **I never got this up yesterday, obviously. Sorry about that. It's not beta'd but I've looked over it and fixed anything that didn't seem right. Sorry for any other mistakes that might be there, as well. Who is EXCITED about Season 3's shooting?! The pictures look great.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl, though if I did, I would let the shooting go all year-round (;.

* * *

She didn't even remember going to sleep. Somehow, though, she had ended up in her own bed, and no one was lying next to her. Just the pile of pillows that she had built and had up ever since _that night_ to keep her company.

Looking over to the bathroom that branched off from her bedroom, she noticed that the light was on. Blair got up from the bed and tip-toed on the plush carpeting over to the cracked door through which a small sliver of light escaped. Pushing it open gently, she gawked at the sight that met her eyes. Damn her and her loss of memory! She should have remembered that Chuck was there.

"_Jesus Christ!"_ she hissed, and she should have slammed the door immediately, but instead was frozen on the spot, staring at a Chuck Bass with his pants down and a stream of something disgustingly yellow coming out of his..._oh, Blair, just say it!_ Once she grasped some sort of sanity, Blair shut the door and scurried into the living room, grabbing a magazine and trying to get engrossed in it so she wouldn't think the things she was starting to think.

_It got bigger..._she thought with a devilish smirk. _Shut up! Pay attention to the newest Jon and Kate scandal! It's much more interesting than the size of Chuck's wee wee!_ Blair obeyed and read the article, trying to immerse herself in the world of tabloids and drama.

However, her mind had different ideas. Flashes of what she had seen in the bathroom assaulted her and no matter how hard she tried to block them out with pathetically photo-shopped pictures of Brad and Jen, they still wouldn't go away. Blair felt her face redden to a deep crimson, and just in time, too.

"So did you like the little peep show?" he drawled as he entered the room, adjusting the sleeves on his long-sleeved blue shirt.

"I don't believe you," she said with a gasp.

"What? Would you rather I go in the woods?" Chuck murmured, smirking at her as he sat down mere inches from her on the gold sofa in the middle of the room.

"You should have _asked!_ I just lost my _husband_; I do not need to see some pervert's manhood in my own bathroom!" Chuck laughed at her and she glared, hoping that her eyes would burn a hole in him. And it had to be a big hole, too; one that would give him as much pain in public as she had had in the privacy of her own home.

"In all seriousness, I really had to go." His face was void of any sort of joking and she felt her resolve melt little by little until she could no longer really remember the reason she had been mad at him in the first place.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked a few moments later, shooting him a curious glance out of the corner of her eye.

Chuck shrugged and said, "I don't know...maybe an hour or so." She looked over at the clock and saw that it was nearly five o'clock already. Victor and Adrianna would be home soon from the after-school pool party at the Van der Woodsen's.

Blair cleared her throat daintily and went into the office to gather the papers of Nate's that she had been working with the other night. Maybe if she just went about her own business and ignored him, Chuck would leave and never come back. Would've made her life a hell of a lot easier.

Then again, he never made her life easy. Never had and probably never would either.

She felt his presence behind her as he followed her into the study. Blair could feel his eyes burning into her back as she picked up the papers and strode to the table in the kitchen, sitting down to go to work.

"Blair," he began, and she could tell by his tone of voice that she wouldn't like this conversation. It was an investigative tone, and whenever Chuck wanted to dig for some information, it was never good and it never made anyone happy.

"Earlier you said something about Nate not telling you...What exactly was that fight about?" he asked, eyes inquisitive and squint-y.

She sat down and looked up at him as she replied. "I was a blubbering idiot earlier, Chuck. I didn't know what I was saying and most of it was incoherent."

"I didn't ask _why_ you said what you said. I _asked_ what the fight was about. It's a simple question, Blair."

"Oh, you don't know how complicated that question really is," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head and hoping that he hadn't heard her.

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing, Chuck. The fight was stupid, like most married couples'. Though I'm sure you wouldn't know a lot about that, since you were only married for...what, a week?...Before she came to her senses and left you." Something registered in his eyes – pain? Like she had hit a nerve? Well, good, the asshole deserved it – but Blair chose to ignore it.

_**********_

That had been a low fucking blow for Blair Waldorf-_Archibald_. He mentally sneered as he said the last bit of her name, wishing he'd had the guts to say it out loud just so she could feel the same gut-wrenching pain he had just experienced.

That wife that Blair was talking about – she had been the one girl (woman) that he'd thought was closest to her in everything. He was sure that the self-pitying and sadness would stop after they married, because she was exactly like Blair in every way. The only difference, he found out a week after the nuptials, was that she didn't feel the same pity for him to stick around even after they fiercely fought. Their banter wasn't quite the same, either, he'd noticed after day three. There was something off, and it gave him a strange feeling.

He and Talia had broken things off when she left. It hurt him in ways that he hadn't expected, and for Blair to throw that back in his face meant that she wanted him to feel pain. When he lost Talia, it was like losing Blair all over again, and that was something that he hadn't been able to take very well.

"You know _what_, Waldorf?" he still didn't have the balls to add Archibald at the end; he didn't want to see that terrible look in her eyes.

She didn't respond, just looked at him expectantly, knowing that he would continue.

"This is precisely what private investigators are paid for," Chuck hissed through his teeth and got up, leaving the kitchen and going to gather his things.

With a slam of the door, he was gone and ready to call his old friend Patrick.

_**********_

Blair rolled her eyes and shook her head as she heard the door close loudly signaling Chuck's departure. He would never find anything out about what happened between herself and Nate; she didn't dare respond to his obvious bluff because she knew that deep down it was just that: a bluff. Maybe Chuck would go searching, but he'd give up once he either figured out that he didn't want to pry into Blair's social life or didn't find anything at all.

She heard the door's lock jiggle and a click when it opened, revealing her two children, laughs spilling from their mouths. She was happy that they had been able to be distracted so well and weren't going through the same thing that their mother was. In no way did they deserve to be unreasonably upset.

Blair did, though. She greeted them with fake smiles as she felt reality start to slip away. Calling Daniella – Dorota's daughter, interestingly enough; she had to keep it in the family after all – into the kitchen to make something for dinner, Blair went back to her bedroom as the flashbacks of a fight that took place not long ago flooded her mind.

"_Blair, c'mon. Be reasonable. I didn't want to tell you because I knew that you would be upset," Nate tried to soothe her, rubbing his big, warm hands on her shoulders quickly. She turned away from him as more gasps came from her, filled with the tears that just wouldn't come at that moment. She couldn't even cry; it was one of those things where she was too upset, too broken, to be able to shed any tears._

"_If you knew that I would be upset-" another wet and gurgly sob "-then why didn't you tell me when it first happened?"_

"_Because it wasn't important, Blair. Look, it's all done now. I don't even fully understand why I started it in the first place." His hands flew out to the sides of him in exasperation and she heaved out a mirthless laugh._

"_If you don't understand that, Nate, then you're just the same immature, juvenile _boy _that I fell in love with at the age of six! That gets old after a while!"_

_He turned away from her and began to pace around the kitchen. She watched him, her eyes following each movement he made – from one corner to the other – and then he finally heaved a sigh._

"_I'm going out." He grabbed his coat off of the rack near the door and Blair ran to catch up with him, grabbing his sleeve desperately._

"_Nate, don't leave. We can fix this, we can." She tugged on his coat, trying to get him to take it off and stay. She needed him here, she really did. Because she loved him._

"_No, Blair, I'm not sure we can this time," he said dismally, leaning down to peck her before going out the door._

_So he'd cheated on her. They would stay together for appearances sake, obviously. That was always how it worked in the Upper East Side. Money married bigger money, if there was scandal, you escaped it but kept up the nice photo-ops._

Three hours later she'd gotten the call. And though she hadn't necessarily been surprised, the shock-wave of guilt and regret that went through her was nearly impossible to bear.

And now wave number two decided to pass through. Blair had thought the damn thing was over.

_**********_

"Mr. Bass, sir, I'm sorry, but I haven't been able to find much...ah...dirt, as you say," Patrick said nervously over the phone. Chuck could just see the man's hands being wrung and felt bad, so he invited him to lunch next Friday to make up for everything before he hung up the phone.

"Damn." He sat down and toyed with his ever-present glass of scotch, waving it around and watching the liquid swish while he contemplated his next move. Picking up the hotel phone, he dialed and listened to the five rings before it went to voice-mail.

"Hi, this is the Archibald residence," Nate's voice laughed and he heard another giggle in the background. Being the normal carefree guy he was, he got off-track, but ended with a, "Ahh...Just leave a message, and we'll get back to ya."

He hung up the phone before he could hear a beep and rose from his place in the somewhat uncomfortable chair that was in the central area of his suite. Chuck grabbed a piece of paper he had found in some old belongings of his and walked out the door, officially on a mission.

**End Note: **So, I'm planning on taking a little break without a chapter...just a day. I'm having a major GG marathon and I gotta say, loads of fun (: I appreciate everyone's support and reviews though! I hope this chapter didn't disappoint, but if it did, please be totally honest. I do appreciate constructive criticism as well as the nice stuff.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **T for now; some could possibly be M

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **Ahh...I'm sorry this is so late. I don't blame you if you're really pissed off and just hate me. So yeah, it's here though. Hope everyone had a great fourth!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl. Thanks to the amazing Michelle for beta-ing!

As Blair picked up a few things in the kitchen (Daniella had the night off) she heard a knock at the door. She automatically chose to ignore it, knowing precisely who was there. Of course Chuck Bass couldn't stay away from her for even twenty four hours.

Truth be told, she wasn't sure why she'd let him off the hook so easily before; in no way was forgiveness deserved by him, even though he seemed to believe it was his entitlement.. Blair would give him hell now, just so he could begin to understand what she had been put through those fifteen years he was gone. Chuck deserved this. In fact, he deserved worse than this, but Blair had aged and was no longer capable of the same schemes her young body had been.

The knocking persisted, but one thing that hadn't aged with Blair was her stubborn attitude and ability to ignore with a content-looking face. However, her son obviously didn't share her great traits, since he came stomping into the foyer and opened the door in a huff.

She hadn't even been able to say "Victor, wait!" before the scene was playing out before her. She lurked in the kitchen, since she knew he thought she had gone to bed. Huddling back in a corner, she watched with fascinated eyes as father and son spoke like strangers.

"Uh...Is Ms. Waldorf here?" Chuck asked nervously, feet shifting in such an uncharacteristically nervous way that she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

"She's asleep. Who're you?" Victor's improper manners would have made Emily Post physically ill had she been there; luckily Blair knew the telltale signs of his exhaustion and was able to sympathize with her son at that moment.

The "I'm Chuck Bass" was expected, smirk and all. But what Blair didn't expect was the tired man that was behind the words. Chuck's eyes sagged pathetically and his voice was deep and clouded with exhaustion. She fought the urge to walk over – ignoring the fifteen year old not far away – and just take him into her arms. That would be giving in, and she never folded – especially when it came to the bastard that stood in her doorway at that second.

"Right. Well, Chuck Bass, my mother isn't here." She watched aptly as Victor eyed a strange paper in Chuck's hands. "Do you have something you'd like me to give her?" His eyes trailed up to meet Chuck's and for a second she thought he would be able to tell; she was ready to run out and pull him away from the man that was his father.

Of course Chuck knew who he was talking to. Though he wasn't as smart in the realm of love and expressing it, he was intelligent in general. Even Blair had to admit that. Apparently, he just chose to be a civil human being and not stir anything up.

What the hell had happened to _the_ Chuck Bass?

Chuck's eyes shifted to the inside of the house. She pressed closer to the side of the door frame, praying to god that her newest diet was allowing her body to be slim enough for talented hiding techniques. He bent his head a little to the left and his eyes found hers. God damn that little weasel, perhaps he hadn't changed as much as she'd thought. He gave her a curious look and she could see the beginnings of an amused smirk - "Waldorf, really? Hiding in the kitchen?" - forming in his eyes and making them sparkle before he turned back to the conversation.

"No," he said a little more brightly this time. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again soon." He began walking out but she heard his brand new leather loafers squeak on the hardwood flooring as he turned around and walked back to the doorway. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Victor." Smirking broadly, he walked back out.

_What the fuck?!_ He just had to ruin things like that; he just felt the undeniable need to screw with her and her life at the worst possible moment. What happened to that sensitive side that he'd been showing recently? _Probably just disappeared along with any other trace of sane emotion in his body_, she supposed.

She had known it would have to happen at some point, but had hoped it would be later rather than sooner. It wasn't something she wanted on her plate; there was too much for her to take care of and it was giving her hell. And then her lacking-in-the-manners-department son _had_ to slam the door – his sister was long asleep! - and then...yell. Lots of yelling from him, and while she knew that she shouldn't take it (she was his mother, she was the alpha, the _adult_) she did, only because she was weak.

"Mom!" his voice boomed and she shook nervously. Blair wasn't ready to deal with this. Not now, she just couldn't. She felt tears fall down her face – not that that would help her case at all – almost numbly and tried to breathe deeply – she didn't even know if she had a grasp on what the hell that was anymore – as she walked out of the kitchen to meet her son in the living room.

"Victor," her voice dripped with a thick syrup of sweetness and her lips twisted into a foreign smile (obviously fake and trying too hard). "Why are you up, sweetheart?"

"Don't pretend like you didn't hear any of that, mother. I want to know what's going on. And I want to know _now_." His eyes were cold, his voice low and rumbling. He was so like Chuck in that way; when he was angry, there were telltale signs. And sometimes it really did kill her that not only did they share that, but they shared the _exact same_ signs of anger. She hated to be reminded of him.

"Well, that was...Chuck. Chuck Bass."

"Way to state the obvious. How the hell did he know who I was? Or you? Or where we _lived_? Do I need to call the cops?" At the beginning of that little spiel his voice was still angry and upsetting, but then he got concerned and that was what made Blair fall apart.

She started sobbing uncontrollably – did she need to see someone? Really, all this sobbing and spontaneous crying was just not normal – and went to sit in a comfortable leather recliner on the other side of the living room. Blair motioned wordlessly for Victor to join her and he did, eyes questioning and almost frightened (he was still just a boy, after all).

"Victor, before I say anything, you have to understand that your – Nate, he was different, we were all very different back then, alright? We were people that harmed ourselves and one another out of boredom that one person would never admit to the other. And when we did hurt one another and ourselves, we felt the need to retaliate." She twiddled her thumbs nervously and looked up at him, biting her lip.

"Wait, you're saying _Nate_, not my father. What the...Oh, Jesus, Mom!" He stood up and started to pace. She shushed him for fear of waking up his younger sister and once she mentioned Adrianna he instantly shut up. His baby sister was his weakness, and that was one of the things that Blair adored most about her eldest child.

"So who..." his voice trailed off as she glanced toward the door where Chuck had been, not long ago. Her expression must have made Victor suspicious and then his eyes followed hers and he got the message.

"That guy?! I never even knew he existed until five minutes ago! Why didn't I ever know him? What, did you just keep him away? Is he that terrible of a person in your book?" Victor's voice snapped each word at her like a big rubber band that was meant to sting a lot and for a long period of time. And his words did; she just wished she weren't the only one being stung by them.

And then it came to her. She didn't have to be. Chuck had brought all of this upon her, so why not sling it right back at him? "You know, Victor, you really should ask him those questions." She nodded her head sympathetically, her eyes wide with innocence.

"Don't tell me you don't know the answer, because that's a load of bull. You know everything because you're Blair Waldorf-Archibald!" She knew that he hadn't meant for the last bit of the sentence to cut into her the way it did; it was uncontrollable and even slightly unexpected the way that it killed her to hear that name being spoken aloud.

"It's not that I don't know the answer," she said, gaining strength and vigor with every word she spoke. The anger rose inside of her and then she went into a full-fledged yell, "It's that I don't want to _re-live _that entire period of my life just so my son can understand something that I've been trying to for the past fifteen years!" Closing her eyes, she rested her head in her hands and slumped down. That little bit of yelling was all that she had the strength for, it seemed.

He left moments later, footsteps quiet and full of defeat as he sulked back to his bedroom. It was best, she knew that. The less he knew about his real father, the better.

And the more that Chuck Bass knew just how pissed off Blair Waldorf was at him, the better as well.

_**********_

He recognized the number from the caller ID because his eyes had skimmed over it earlier – only two days ago, in fact. Although his PI wasn't able to track down exactly what he wanted, the man wasn't completely useless to Chuck.

"Your stalking has reached new heights, Waldorf."

"You are not the only one who has a private investigator on hand at every second of the day. Took him three seconds to look up the number, Bass. And I am not in any way stalking you; I thought we could talk about how you decided to _ambush my son_." He could hear shuffling on her end and assumed that she was fixing herself some sort of lunch that probably involved heating leftovers.

"I'm surprised I didn't receive the phone call sooner," he drawled, taking a sip of his newly reconciled friend, scotch. They'd had a bumpy ride for the first day or so, but he was willing to compensate and adjust to fit the drink back into his life. God knew that he needed it.

"Let's just say I needed to cool down." Her voice contained no playful tone, it was all flat and stone-like, ice coating each letter that fell from her lips and hit his ear. Shivering slightly with displeasure, he stood up and went to the bar for a refill.

"Well then, to what do I owe the utmost pleasure of a phone call from Blair-y dearest?" Chuck quipped, letting the scotch flow out of the bottle and into the glass with a newfound ease. He felt no need to rush the process, especially since he had multiple bottles to replenish his thirst and more than that of money to replace his stash of liquor.

"I never want you to come to my home again. In fact, if I had it my way, we would never see one another again. But you've made that simply impossible."

Glass number one of scotch: down smoothly in one second flat. Glass two was being poured as he considered what she said and tried to think of a decent rebuttal.

"Now now, let's not get hasty. It's a small city," he murmured in what he hoped to be an alluring and slightly seductive – not too much, he didn't want her to come over and kick him in the balls (because he figured that with how much she'd changed, she was definitely capable of that) – voice. "I'm sure I'll...run into your family on multiple occasions. We have a very close-knit group, after all."

"Serena hasn't talked to you, so don't even try to pull that crap with me, Chuck. I called her before I called you, and she said that she was sure you'd have left right after the funeral based on the look in your eyes during that split second she saw you. So, she's out. Who else would you have contacted? Little J and her model? Humphrey Dumpty? Because I seriously doubt either of those would dare give you the time of day," she snapped and he could tell that her eyes had narrowed and she was bouncing her leg up and down in an attempt to rid of the exponential amounts of adrenaline that pumped through her body.

Glass number two: downed with a greatly lesser amount of effort than the first. Three followed and Chuck barely even thought about it as his fourth glass of scotch in five minutes was merely a few drops in the bottom of the glass. He poured again and let the glass sit there as he swayed slightly. _Can't hold your liquor as well as you used to, hm Bass? Better work on that,_ he thought drunkenly.

"Look, Waldorf. I hardly think this is a conversation to have over the phone. Why don't we just..." he hated the way that his words were slurring and made a solid effort at trying to speak clearly and concisely. "Have lunch with me." He managed to finish with a normal voice that did not make him sound like a weakling that was at her mercy – even though he was more than he'd like to admit.

"No," she said firmly.

"Why? Afraid you won't be able to resist me after just one meal? It's an hour at most, Blair. You don't even have to fucking look at me while we eat," he spat in a desperate attempt to get her to agree.

"Go to hell," Blair replied angrily.

"Is that a yes then? Because I really don't have all day," Chuck drawled, eying the scotch appreciatively and picking it up. He watched it swirl and smirked at how beautiful the amber liquid looked in the glass, all of the facets of each indentation catching different colors in the spectrum of the drink.

"That's a 'I am only going because of my kids and my husband just died'," Blair said quietly.

"A fact that you always love to remind me of. Though perhaps not for my benefit, but for yours instead. I'll get reservations at Butter for 11:45," he said and flipped his cell-phone closed.

His fifth glass of liquor for the day was accompanied by a strange tilt of the room and total blackness that followed.

**End Note: **I keep saying this, but I have it planned and the next chapter will have something happy in it. It'll make you smile for that brief moment...but I still have to keep that core of angst in this, because that really is what the story is about. How Chuck and Blair have to overcome all of that sad crap and then finally find one another. As the story blossoms more, though, there will definitely be some much more happier aspects that I hope readers will enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **T for now; some could possibly be M

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Disclaimer and Note: **I do not own Gossip Girl. Thanks to the amazing Michelle for beta-ing!

* * *

Blair's head swam as she tried to fall asleep that night. She couldn't focus on any one thing and her mind was scattered. Thoughts fled and then came back seconds later to pester her. Tossing and turning, she finally got up, huffing, and wrapped her arms around her waist with her pillow squished against her abdomen.

She'd been imagining any and every scenario for that damned lunch tomorrow. There was even one where Chuck brought his own child with that _he'd_ been hiding. Her imagination seemed to run even more wild late at night, and that was what she blamed for that particular situation. The one that her mind kept drifting back to, though, was that something would happen.

It killed Blair to admit it, but there _was_ still something there. This...thing, it was a feeling that had been dormant inside of her since Victor was born (the day that she finally got it through her head that he was not coming back) and was now awakened. And it would not go to sleep or burn out. She knew Chuck could see it, that he could feel it too, even though he might not want to admit it either. But this emotion had become a big pink elephant ever since their phone conversation earlier. It was no longer ignorable, much as she wished she could just cut it out of her.

But then another part of her kicked in and said that this needed to happen. There were things Chuck needed to know, and she needed to tell him; it was probably the same way for him. If they ended up having sex in and amidst all of this, then whatever would be would be. Knowing him, he would leave again. The thing was, maybe this time – since she was partially expecting it – it wouldn't be as hurtful.

Oh, who the fuck was she kidding? It always hurt like hell when Chuck Bass left. That was just the impression he left on those who lo – who felt passionate about them.

Blair had no idea if what she was feeling was the leftovers of the love from fifteen years ago, or if it was just a normal thing that one felt when they had been away from a former lover for a great length of time. She was confused as ever, and couldn't help but feel guilty that she was imagining all of these different scenarios for her lunch tomorrow with a bastard that had broken her heart before, but not once had Nate – her wonderful (okay, he cheated, but that was nearly forgotten, as it would have been if he stayed alive) loving husband of ten years – crossed her mind in the tiniest way.

She half expected his ghost to haunt her like in those cute movies where the dead spouse eventually did come back and everything was happy again. But then sanity kicked in and Blair realized that happily ever after never happened in reality. There were no prince charmings and everyone was faulty and made mistakes. Her childish mind had thought that true perfection was achieved when she became an Archibald, through and through. And then when their gorgeous daughter was born, the perfection got even more bright and glowing.

As always, her life had to fall apart though. It had happened before, and she knew it would happen again in the future. Everything tumbled down and collapsed, and she still wasn't sure that she could recover from everything. When Nate had died, she'd lost a part of herself – a part that was more little-girl. It was like he had taken away her childhood because she'd shared so much of that with him.

Of course, though, he had taken a tiny piece of her heart too. When they had married, she thought he had helped her fully overcome whatever it was that she had for Chuck and with Chuck. On their wedding day, with her three-months-along belly protruding only very slightly – well she didn't want to be _fat,_ did she? - she put on a smile that was not fake at all, for once. She was genuinely thrilled to be marrying Nathanial Archibald and pictured a happy future with him.

That was little Blair coming out to play, believing in her naïve dreams of a fairytale in which she was the star and Nate was the king that courted her.

But the truth of that was that after two years, it got old and she was tired of playing the part.

And she had never expected something like what hell wrought on her that night almost two weeks ago to happen, much less having Chuck back for good (or _his_ definition of "for good"). The universe – the gods – it loved to screw with her and upset her. Surely it was karma for all the shit she did in high school, when she was the truest of true queens that everyone wanted to be and everyone wanted to be _with_.

High school didn't follow her, as it seemed to for so many others. She graduated and made a stupid mistake, lowering her position on the social ladder immeasurably and making the people that she had thought to be her family disregard her and cut her off.

Of course her mother reconsidered once she married Nate, but that was another story entirely.

Stupid mistakes were what had her where she was that very night, lying in bed and daydreaming about the lunch she was having with Chuck Bass tomorrow that would most likely end in another mistake that she would regret, starting the vicious and tedious cycle once again. And all of this when the man that she was so convinced she loved had just passed away.

Blair Waldorf was a fucked up woman, she really was. And one day she would pay, even more than she was at that moment. She hated to imagine that.

_**********_

Chuck threaded the end of his bowtie through the hole he had created and pulled tightly as the final weave completed his bowtie. The blue silk felt like his adolescence as his fingers brushed over it. There was a striped design that was subtle, but still screamed 'look at me', and that was sort of the look he was going for. He toned the loud tie out down by wearing a simple gray suit and a so-pale-it-was-almost-white shirt. On his feet were bright blue argyle socks – because he always liked to wear something outrageous in a place that few people got to see – with shiny black shoes to cover them up.

He smoothed his perfectly gelled hair back into its place and pulled on the bottom hem of his suit so he could properly admire the work that he had done. In no way did he look the slightest bit hungover, even though he had needed that extra hour of Bass-sleep this morning. He'd still managed to create seemingly flawless near-perfection in his appearance in half the time he normally did.

Chuck flipped his wrist up to check the time and picked up the pace slightly since it was already 11:15. He knew it was probably the gentlemanly thing to do to arrive a few minutes before Blair did, and of course that meant ten minutes early because she was always either extremely punctual or too early for anyone's good.

Dashing – he hated the word, but couldn't think of anything else to describe what he was doing right then – out to meet the limo in front of the Palace, he crawled in the back seat when he reached the car. It gave him a strange feeling of completion and possibly even power when he slid across the buttery leather seat with ease and in one smooth motion.

Chuck Bass was on his A-game today. There was no better way to deal with a Waldorf.

_**********_

"I just don't understand why you're having lunch with Mrs. Humphrey. She was fucking -" Blair glared at her son "sorry, she was just really smashed last night. I'd be surprised if she wasn't in an alcohol-induced coma. Why would Mr. Humphrey even let her _out?_ Geesh, if I were able to tap that -" Blair silenced Victor fully this time with icy eyes and a cool voice that showed she meant business.

"That is my friend you're talking about, young man. And Serena is married with _three children. _I'd watch what you say, got it?" She saw him gulped and had a sense of satisfaction that she held such power over at least _one thing _in her life at that time.

"Sure. Well, uh...have fun, mom," he came forward and gave her a hug before she went off to find Adrianna.

"Hey, hun...I'm about to leave for lunch with Mrs. Humphrey. Just thought I'd say bye before I left and see if you need anything?" She walked further into the room and tried to hold in her gasp when the eight year old turned to her with glassy chocolate eyes that were rimmed in red. Blair followed her motherly instinct and reached out to her daughter, grasping her tightly as small sobs escaped from her tiny body.

"I miss daddy," she yelled, pouting when Blair pulled away. "When will he come back?"

"Adri, sweetie, I know you're smart enough to understand that he isn't coming back." She looked at her daughter with pity in her eyes, upset that she hadn't paid enough attention to her own daughter to know what was going on.

"But, why, mommy? Why did he have to leave like that? Did he hate us that much?" Adrianna sobbed and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her tailored Dolce and Gabanna dress. Blair ignored her instant reaction to scold the girl about getting nasty things on her beautiful clothes and tried to focus on what was going on; she sure as hell didn't want to turn into her mother, that would be the day that she had truly failed herself as well as her children.

"He didn't hate us, Adrianna, do you understand me?" her voice was firm and her eyes were wide with seriousness. She felt a tear that she hadn't known was welling up fall down her cheek and continued, swiping at it with her hand. "He loved us all very much. Daddy was just having some trouble, alright? Oh...shhh," she soothed as the little girl yelped with more tears.

"I just wish things could go back to normal," Adrianna mumbled into the sleeve of Blair's jacket as she clutched at her. "If daddy were here, things would be normal and perfect, like they were before." Her voice was small and meek and broke Blair's heart.

The insight that this little girl had was immense and she was so far beyond her years that sometimes Blair wished she could just get younger instead of older. Because the older she got, the more disturbed Blair was with how well she dealt and how easily she understood such adult matters. But that was just the Waldorf in her.

And that meant that her daughter would be a strong woman one day. A woman, she hoped, that would be healthier and more down-to-earth than her mother. That was all Blair wished for, that her children would live a happier and infinitely more prosperous life than she had.

_**********_

Chuck glaned down at his watch again, trying desperately to seem nonchalant since it was the fifth time in three seconds that he had looked. Never was he this paranoid, and he fought hard to keep up the façade of calm that was Chuck Bass. It was 12:00, and still no Blair. Would she really stand him up? Even she couldn't be that terrible, no matter what he had done to deserve utter bitchiness from her.

Blair was never late. Or at least, she never had been. Then again, that was a long time ago. It had been a time where there was no dead husband with affairs left behind (in more ways than one) and two kids that she had to take care of. Maybe that was why she was late. Maybe punctuality didn't really matter as much to Blair as much anymore. Maybe...

He didn't have time to think anymore, because just as more thoughts were about to flood his mind, she walked in, radiant and beautiful as a real angel sent from above. Maybe more, in fact. The wind that came from the door closing behind her made her curls bounce and stray hairs flew around her pale face as she strode over to the table with a step that was slightly faster than necessary.

"Hello, Blair. You look lovely," he said, charm dripping from each syllable that was emitted from his lips. He stood and took her hand, kissing it. It was painfully obvious as she turned her head away that she was affected by his action, but tried desperately not to be. That gave him an unnecessary ego boost. As she sat down, he handed her a menu and she looked up at him, obviously determined to explain.

"Sorry for being late. There were problems at home and kids in general are difficult to handle," she said with a small smile as if talking to an old friend. Chuck really hoped with all of his heart that that smile had been genuine and they were old friends now. Because if they were old friends, then they could be on the road to...Slow down, Bass, he admonished, rolling his eyes to himself.

"Of course, I understand." Even though there wasn't one way he could relate, he still said that to make her feel better. Because in a way, he did understand. He understood in the sense that Blair was and always had been as honest as possible with him, so he believe anything he said. Perhaps that was unwise and if it was, then fuck being wise and adult because if he wasn't now, he never would be.

"Let's order," Blair said softly, looking down at her menu.

_**Author's Note: **__Review? I'll post right away (;_


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **T for now; some could possibly be M

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **I got so much more of an amazing response to the last chapter than I expected. A big shoutout goes to Amber530, whose reviews honestly seem to keep me going the most. Thanks so much to everyone else who reviewed as well. You're all so encouraging and great! This is shorter because I literally wrote it right after I posted the other chapter last night. I plan on working on Chapter 8 immediately as well, because I'm in a writing mood.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl. I also appreciate Michelle's beta work on this chapter (:

* * *

Blair tried to focus on politely chewing a piece of undercooked chicken from her salad instead of how straight her back was or how far apart her legs were spread. She was afraid to look up at Chuck, because she knew that he would be gazing at her and she wouldn't be able to stand it. Nothing had been said since her suggestion to order, and she was thankful for that. Maybe all this was was a lunch, and he didn't intend to talk about anything serious. Just food between two almost-lovers turned friends.

"So, you only have the little girl and Victor then?" he asked conversationally, stabbing a piece of steak. Oh good; at least he was starting off small and easy.

"Adrianna and Victor, yes," she replied primly. Blair opted to cross her legs. She didn't want Chuck not-so-subtly leering at her open thighs when he was sure she wasn't looking.

"And how old are they?"

She scoffed. "Please, Chuck. Don't act like all of the answers to these questions weren't in the file that your PI gave you." Rolling her eyes, she stabbed a piece of spinach from her salad and dipped it in a little puddle of Italian dressing before putting it in her mouth and chewing quickly.

"I asked for information on Blair Waldorf, not the children of Blair Waldorf," he stated matter-of-factly and almost smugly, if she wasn't mistaken.

"Fine. Vic is fifteen, turning sixteen in two months; Adri is turning nine in three weeks," Blair said. She finally looked up to meet his eyes, but looked right back down when she saw the caramel globes boring right into her soul, like they always had. Blair suddenly became very interesting in a game of lettuce hockey in which the small onions were the pucks and her fork was the stick.

"Hm," he grunted in response, glaring down at his baked potato and prime rib. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he took a large gulp of his wine, setting the glass down unsteadily on the coaster. Looking up again, she didn't break eye contact this time. No, it was Chuck who broke away and looked over her shoulder at something outside the large bay window not far from where they sat.

She turned her head slightly and followed his gaze. Outside, there was a young mother with a little boy that looked no older than two. The young lady was struggling with the boy and trying to get him to hold her hand and walk with her.

It was then that Blair realized. She finally understood why Chuck had such a desire to know Victor and be in his life. He didn't want to have a child that struggled against him and resisted and in twenty years he wanted a real bond with his son. Chuck didn't want to be his father, and she knew that he was better than his father. He was better than his father because he left. Chuck left so that she could marry Nate and have children and be _happy._

If only he'd known that all he had to do to make her happy was stay and be there for her. Nate would have been taken care of. But, no, Chuck had to be pessimistic and unbelieving in what was between them. She had believed – then – that the feelings between them were real and enough of a bond that they would last. The child that she had would have strengthened that, but this was what Chuck failed to see.

"You're not him, you know." And Blair knew that they were on the same page by the pathetic look in his eyes.

However, he decided not to let on to the fact aloud. "I beg your pardon?" he rasped.

"You are not your father, Chuck. The reason you left had nothing to do with Victor; just because he doesn't know that doesn't mean that it's not true. He's young. Give him time and it'll all get better." Chuck looked at her disbelievingly.

"I don't think that's true. Any of it," he muttered, toying with a small pile of potatoes that had been mashed under his fork.

She reached across the table and grasped his hand. "I do." And then the electric shocks came, tingling her from scalp to toe and making her breath come in uneven spurts that were not in any way normal. When her eyes skimmed up to his, she found a twinkle in them that made her give a small smile in return. His big, warm hand squeezed hers and she felt her stomach flip violently.

_**********_

"Dessert, Waldorf?" Chuck asked, smirking as he still held her hand. It was a little foreign to him, but it felt so nice. Comforting and friendly, with intimate undertones that only they were able to create.

"Sure," Blair replied taking her hand away. He was about to reach back across the white table when he realized that she had a purpose for taking the source of warmth away from him. She was fumbling in her purse and looked at her cell-phone. She gawked at the time – he looked at his watch and noticed that it was already one o'clock – and then dialed a number.

When the waiter came back, Chuck ordered a piece of triple-chocolate cake for he and Blair to share – two forks of course; he was sure that if they only used one, he wouldn't be sleeping in the Palace tonight.

"Hey, it's me," she said into the mouthpiece of the phone. "Lunch is running later than I thought. We've had a lot to talk about," Blair looked up at Chuck as she said this and when he smirked, she coughed back a laugh, making his smirk grow into an amused smile.

"So, I'll see you guys later. Love you," she murmured softly before drawing it away from her ear and dropping it back in her purse.

"We've had a lot to talk about, hm? It seems to me like we haven't done a whole lot of talking, Blair."

"Look, Chuck. This has been nice, but after dessert I should really get back." It did not go unnoticed by him that his question was unanswered, nor was it ignored that she wasn't meeting her eyes anymore. Looked like their moment was over as soon as it had begun. Dammit.

"Alright, then," he said, though it was probably unnecessary given that it seemed like she was no longer paying any attention.

"Your dessert, sir," the waiter addressed Chuck, and he accepted the plate as it was set down with a nod of his head.

_**********_

"Go ahead, Blair. Ladies first," he murmured, eyes twinkling. She had thought it was over, but then another wave of crippling nausea rolled through and she found that she really didn't have much of an appetite, yet she was listening to Chuck and used her fork to slice into the moist chocolate cake.

It tasted divine. The frosting swirled on her tongue and was creamy as it slid down her throat, coating the crumbling cake. She licked the residual frosting that had a few crumbs stuck to it off of her fork and then lay it down next to her glass plate.

Raising her eyes to look at Chuck, she found his mouth agape – though he tried unsuccessfully to cover it up by getting his own bite of cake and swallowing quickly before taking a swallow of water. She noted interestedly that he did not sip wine, but instead the water. Had she really been _that _involuntarily seductive while taking a mere bite of cake? Or perhaps Chuck had just gone too long without.

Ten minutes later, the cake was gone and all that was left between them was a thing sliver of white china, even though mere seconds after they'd finished, that was taken away as well, and all that was left between them was utterly uncomfortable silence.

"I should probably go." Blair folded her napkin and was just about to rise when Chuck surprised her by taking her hand and pulling her back down.

"At least let me make up for whatever unseen and unknown thing that I did and allow me to give you a ride home." It didn't sound half bad to her, and she could just press herself as far as possible to the window. But then that side of her that usually thought of Nate only as an afterthought decided to mention him as a fore-thought instead and she instantly felt guilty.

"I really shouldn't, Chuck," she said softly, smoothing the wrinkles that were on the tablecloth in front of her.

Gazing at her, he said the one thing that he must have known would make the offer irresistible. "Come on, Blair. It's had to have been ages since you've had a proper limo ride."

She wordlessly rose and looked over her shoulder as she walked out to slide into his car. Screw Nate. He was dead; and he had cheated on her, after all. Though that little voice was still tugging at her mercilessly, she felt the need to ignore it and keep pressing on the button in her life that was Chuck Bass.

You only lived once, right?

_**********_

Chuck was very pleasantly surprised that Blair had agreed to receive a ride him from him. However, he wasn't so surprised that she didn't say one word to him the whole way. She was pressed as far as possible – maybe even more than possible – into the door and was very attentive to the details that rushed by outside her window.

In no time, they had reached Blair's apartment. Before she could object, Chuck got out of his side of the car and opened her door for her. He lifted her out of the car with ease and she stumbled a bit, but he caught her. It was the point in every cheesy movie where the guy would lean down and make his move, but Chuck was better than that. He knew better than that. So he led her to the door.

"Have a good day, Blair," Chuck said, and before he could talk himself out of it, he planted a chaste – well, as chaste as a kiss from Chuck Bass could be – kiss on Blair's lips.

He looked back over his shoulder and saw a very stunned Ms. Waldorf, eyes wide with shock, standing on the doorstep.

**End Note: **See? Happy! (: And I realize the kiss was fast moving for them. Would I really leave it like that? Of course there'll be some thoughts and regrets in the next chapter, before everyone hounds me about "they're moving so fast!" It's just a bit of a cliffy, which is why I'll post again very soon (:


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **T for now; some could possibly be M

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **This is so late. Please accept my most sincere apologies and the _definitely happening _probability of another chapter being up late tonight or very early tomorrow. Now, as for the finishing of this story. According to one of my first author notes at the very beginning of this story, it should be wrapping up within this week. I have some serious work to do and plan to work my ass off to give you guys a great ending to the story. That being said, onto another order of business. The beta of this chapter, Camilla, has an amazing story called 'How We Got to Where We're Going' that was just completed after a whopping thirty chapters. Please, if you enjoy what I write, do a humongous good deed and head over to my profile, click the link for her profile, and read that story if you feel inclined. She deserves many reviews, and it would make me happy as well as I did all the beta-ing for that story (; Thanks again everyone for all of the great reviews, and I really do apologize for the lateness of this update.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl. Thanks so much to Camilla for beta-ing this chapter as Michelle officially has a life and is off to camp (:

What the hell had just happened to her? Why did she even let Chuck give her a ride home? That should have been the first clue telling her that he wanted to try something – that he was already planning, _plotting_. But then again, what if that wasn't what Chuck was doing? Maybe his intentions were pure this time, perhaps he had changed and Blair had simply failed to realize this.

Pressing her back against the front door of her large apartment, Blair released a heavy sigh and lightly tapped the back of her head against the wood of the door, eyes rolling back into her head. Pulling away from the door – it was simply unacceptable to stand there all day – she went to the kitchen and picked up one of the house phones that lay in its cradle on the marble counter.

She listened to the rings that were surprisingly calming and tranquil until finally Serena picked up.

"B! What's new?" Serena said, her voice bubbly and vivacious, as always. You never would have known that she'd thrown a party yesterday where she had been, according to Blair's son, 'smashed'.

"I just had lunch," Blair said calmly, and then her voice rose as she finished the thought. "With a _Bass! Chuck Bass!_"

"Well, I mean...is that really so terrible? You had to have known that it was going to happen at some point. Isn't he back for good? That was what I heard..." Serena replied, beginning to ramble. Blair spoke again before Serena could continue ranting nonsensically like she seemed to do so often. Perhaps it was having three kids that distracted her constantly?

"Serena," her voice was low. "He _kissed_ me. Granted, it was short and very sweet, but he still crossed a line! Did he not?" Blair began to pace restlessly, playing with the ruffle of her green shirt.

"Aw, Blair. Look, I'm sure Chuck just wants you to feel better..."

"So he kisses me on the lips as a form of goodbye!? He's been in town for less than a week! God, there's something wrong with that Basstard!" She screamed, huffing as she plopped down on a kitchen chair.

"Okay...well...how was it? I mean, it was Chuck, so it must have been nice, right, B?" Serena's voice was timid, and Blair could tell she was frightening her poor and meek friend already.

"Yes, Serena," she admitted quietly. "It was nice, great.. But that's not the _point._ The point is that it wasn't _supposed _to send shivers down my spine and I wasn't _supposed _to have a flutter in my heart. This isn't how widows behave after the love of their life dies!"

"I think that you need to talk to him," Serena prodded gently. She had to have known Blair wouldn't go for that idea, but Blair did admire her for trying.

"You of all people know I can't do that. Not after all this time; all of the things that have happened since he left. It was terrible, and he takes me out to one lunch and kisses me goodbye and it's like he expects that to erase everything that happened!" She threw her hand up for emphasis, not that it would do much for the blonde friend that was miles – only a few – away.

She heard screaming on the other end and knew the conversation would soon be coming to a close. Much like so many of her conversations lately, it would get interrupted - people in her life had better things to do. They had a life where they weren't swimming like she was. She was lost in the waters of her life and drowning; it was a terrible experience and she didn't know how to fix it.

"Sorry, B, I gotta go. Melissa's screaming again because Tyson pulled her hair, apparently." Serena sounded exasperated, just like any other mother with young children. "Bye!"

The dial-tone was heard before Blair could reply to Serena and she sighed, setting the phone down. She looked at each small crack in the table somewhat forlornly, and mumbled, "Bye," before standing to take an afternoon nap.

She'd rarely taken afternoon naps _before._

_**********_

There was a bounce to his step. Chuck Bass had a _bounce _to his step. And to think that Blair Waldorf had caused this unusual occurrence was just absolutely baffling. As he poured a glass of scotch, Chuck thought about how well that lunch had worked out.

Except for the end. Even he could tell that the end had been a total and complete failure. For the first three miles of his trip back to the Palace, the macho side of him had kicked in and he felt a strange excitement for kissing Blair the way that he had. Kudos to him for using self-control and not pushing her back against the doors of the building. And then for the next five or six miles of the eighteen mile trip, the guilt had kicked in. Because of that, when he got back to his hotel, he was nothing but the shell of a man that was still in love with Blair Waldorf.

Now, though, Chuck had decided that he would simply carry on as if nothing had happened. No doubt that was what Blair herself would do as well. He was only following suit, so she couldn't yell at him for anything. He was playing it safe. Sure, it was a major blow to Chuck's ego to admit that he was playing it safe, but sometimes a man in love really needed to make some sacrifices.

He heard a knock on the door and shot the inanimate object a curious look. Walking towards the door, he peered through the peephole and drew his head back instantly when he saw who it was.

A rather frazzled looking Blair Waldorf – her hair wasn't in its normal perfect and flawless curls and a dab of mascara was on the corner of her right eye – stood outside the door and she knocked furiously once, twice, three times before he finally opened the door, still pressed to the side of the wall next to it.

"What the hell is wrong with you, huh?!"

"Well then, just start right -"

"You do _not _ kiss someone that you've just seen after fifteen years! That's not how it works, Chuck!" She invited herself in and sat down on the cream-colored sofa in the middle of his living room. He followed her reluctantly, not speaking for a moment as he watched her get unnecessarily frustrated with a pillow before throwing it onto a chair opposite where she sat. It was almost...cute?

"I didn't hear any complaints, Blair," he said smugly. Smirking at her, he drew his hand along her shoulder while walking to the bar and getting gin to make her a martini. She sure did look like she needed a drink.

"I don't drink alcohol anymore," Blair said immediately, but he waved her off, pouring the concoction into a clean glass that practically sparkled.

"Oh please," he scoffed when she stared ahead, stubbornly ignoring the drink and glaring at the carpeting. "Blair, take the damn thing!"

She only stared up at him, took the drink, and proceeded to pour it on his shoe.

"At least it didn't go to waste," he muttered sarcastically as he dabbed at his shoe with the cloth of the table runner from the sofa table.

"I _told you _I don't _drink_," she bit out, her voice rising at the end in anger that almost scared him.

Walking over to the bar, he grabbed a tall glass and filled it with tap water, walked back to Blair, and handed it to her. She took the glass and stared at him through the vicious slits that were her eyes.

"Tap, really?" she growled when it was on the table and successfully ignored.

"Well then,what would you rather drink?"

"I never asked for a drink," Blair replied instantaneously, always a step ahead of him. Chuck shuffled his feet – even though he was sitting, he found it surprisingly simple – somewhat nervously and glanced out the window, watching a bird fly away from the sill. Finally, Blair spoke again, more quietly.

"Why did you kiss me?" She asked meekly, meeting his eyes with her timid-looking ones.

"You're really asking _that _question?" Chuck looked at her disbelievingly and she just shrugged her shoulders in response, still expecting a decent answer.

"Waldorf, I kissed you because...I..." he trailed off and stared at the floor. Now here was the big choice; whether to lie and keep up his tough exterior or actually tell her and let down his guard. "I _felt like it._" Tears shone in her eyes and he saw her lower lip get sucked in as she bit it hard to keep from sobbing. He could read her like a book.

"So nothing caused you to do that? Nothing led up to it, you just _felt like _kissing me?"

"Honestly, is it that big of a deal!? We're going to get into a fight about a damn kiss, really?!" Chuck's voice boomed unexpectedly, each word bouncing off of the standard white walls of the hotel suite.

_*********_

"I didn't _want _ to fight, Chuck! You just made it a fight by deciding to yell," Blair finished, glaring at him fiercely. "I don't want to fight," she added without as much strength. "I came here for answers, Chuck. Don't you think I at least deserve that?" she sniffed and wiped at some non-existent fuzz on her skirt.

Being here was difficult, that was something she wouldn't lie to herself about. But the things that she _did_ lie to herself about were the most important. How she felt, the thing she wanted to do most, right at that moment. She wanted to kiss Chuck and fall back on his bed and make crazy love until day turned to night and night then turned to day.

She just couldn't do that.

There were too many complications. She had children, so Blair couldn't be reckless and carefree as she had once been with Chuck Bass. Blair used to be more fun, before there were other people to consider while she had that fun. Now, there was Vic and Adrianna. They sure as hell had feelings and she wasn't going to be her mother and leave them in the dust.

"I kissed you because...I kissed you because..." he genuinely seemed at a loss and Blair looked up at him through tear-clouded eyes, straightening her posture a bit.

He rolled his eyes and turned away. "I don't fucking know, Blair. I just kissed you, alright? Does everything have to be analyzed? Justified?" He flipped back around and approached her. He then knelt in front of her and Blair's heart froze.

When it began to beat again, it thundered against her ribcage. A wave of something that she hadn't felt in years washed from the pit of her stomach and up to her heart to speed up the already sped-up-enough pace. Chuck's warm hands rested comfortably on her knees and then he leaned in - his breath so close to her lips - and all Blair could think about was Nate. Nate and the way that he had touched her when they'd been as in love as they ever would have been.

Blair stood up suddenly and the force of her movement caused Chuck to stumble backwards and into the table, cursing endlessly before finally sucking it up and rising to stand once again. He followed close behind her, and in no way did that help her heartbeat or the violent and potentially dangerous shaking of her knees. If she stumbled, surely chivalry would kick in and Chuck would catch her and then everything – every bit of self control she had tried to grasp and hold tight to her – would be out the window and long forgotten.

"Why are you leaving?" He whispered, eyes showing no emotion except confused broken-ness.

"I can't do this, Chuck. I just can't. Not right now." She was painfully aware of the fact that her eyes were not meeting his and because of the lack of eye contact, Chuck's eyes were burning into the side of her face. She mustered up all the strength that she could and looked up into his liquid caramel eyes. As she did this, she felt something inside of her shift. As if she were making a life-changing decision.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't contact me or my family anymore."

And with that Blair walked out on Chuck. It should have felt good, vengeful. So then why was it that all she could do on the way home was cry endless tears?


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **T for now; some could possibly be M

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **Okay, short author's note this time. This is later than I said as well, and I'm sorry. Didn't really get as many reviews as I'd hoped for the last chapter, hence the slowness in updating. But update I have. Oh yeah, I'm introducing Victor's POV in this chapter...just to spice things up a bit and to let you know that he hasn't disappeared and he definitely hasn't forgotten about his daddy (;

**Disclaimer: **Apparently I own a half-naked Chuck Bass with his new hair-do ;), but Gossip Girl isn't really a package deal with him...Bah :P.

Also, thank you to Camilla for her amazing beta-work on this chapter.

* * *

It was only his third day of not seeing Blair, and already he was a huge mess. It was pathetic, really; even when he'd gone off to Hong Kong, he hadn't mourned this much or this often.

It was because in some part of his mind at that time, everything had been justified. His leaving had been for Blair's benefit, and not his own, so he'd felt better in a way. He had felt like he was leaving behind people that would just be happier without him, and imagining their happiness had given him a great feeling.

This time, he had been _banished_. She had asked him not to bother her ever again, to never contact her – not once. It was like Blair had shut him up in a room without meals or showers - except for the fact that it was under his control that no food entered his system and no water touched his skin. Chuck was hurting from the abandonment (involuntary exile, perhaps?), and it killed him more this time than the last because of one simple fact: he still loved her.

Sure, he would have loved to call her one night in a drunken stupor – ignoring her requests (demands, more like) – and tell her that he was still in love with her (for the second time, he reminded himself). But even when he was the drunkest of drunk, however, he found that he could not bring himself to go against Blair's wishes. He had changed – transformed into a man that did not want to break anything more than it had already been broken. No longer was he the same destructive _child _he had been.

However, this didn't mean that he didn't actually _get drunk _and _think about _calling Blair. He'd even gone into lucid dreams where he called her and somehow they ended up in his bed, making joyous love - yes, now Chuck Bass the notorious playboy made _love_ (though really only with Blair) – for hours on end until they forgot their own names. Then, though, he had to wake up. Chuck always had to wake up from those dreams and come crashing down to the reality that was the rancid smell of vomit on the tiles of his bathroom and incessant pounding of headaches.

Right now, he was in the latter category. A half-empty bottle of Aspirin sitting next to him on his nightstand as he lay in his bed covered with the silky comforter that was – of course – his own. Though he owned the hotel, he still couldn't manage to get people to agree on the fact that better bedding was definitely needed. He gulped down water from his Evian bottle and swallowed two of the oval-shaped white pills, throwing his head back to help them go down easier.

Lying back against the four fluffed pillows he had in a line along the edge of his headboard, Chuck tried with all of his might to fall asleep, thinking of nothing but Blair – as with any other normal night.

_**********_

She was living like any other normal person, or so she thought. Blair sat down and ate meals with her children, asked them about their day at school, and sorted through papers. She played the role of both mother and father as best she could, sometimes failing miserably (though that was completely expected).

This particular night, however, she was having a certain difficulty with herself, instead of anyone else in the household. Flipping over for the millionth time on her Vera Wang mattress, Blair sighed and sat up, a feeling of déjà vu sweeping over her from head to toe. Of course there was déjà vu; she _had _experienced this before, this restlessness.

And, of course, it was all because of Chuck Bass.

He entered her every thought; every figment of her being had some part of him in it, and though she was able to keep it away most nights with the pop of a Xanax before she fell back against the bed, tonight it was just not happening. Pulling out her laptop, she began another useless letter.

_Dear Chuck -_

That just didn't seem right for this letter.

_Basshole -_

_This is a yet another night when you just won't leave me alone. I'm not sure why I keep thinking of you, especially when I said that I was done with us and I never wanted to hear from you again. However, you just keep pestering me – memories from days long passed, and scenarios of when we will inevitably meet again._

_I wish you were here in bed with me, I really truly do with all of my heart. There's Nate, though. I know he is dead, but I still cannot grasp that fact and sometimes it really does upset me that I want _both_ of you here with me, making me feel whole again. I have to remember that I can't have it both ways, though, more-so since Nate isn't even here. _

_God, why am I even writing this? For years to come, people will look at these documents and say things like "Oh, look at the poor widow trying to drown her sorrows in obviously drunken letter-writing" and "My, my, _did _that girl ever have a proper therapy session?" but I'm not sure that I care too much anymore._

_These unsent letters help me, since I will go an entire lifetime – now- with the pain of not seeing the man I love ever again._

She clicked around a few times, saving the document and locking it under a special password, and then closed the laptop and shoved it back into its place under her bed.

She had begun writing the letters about a week ago when she found it increasingly difficult to sleep, night after excruciating night. And then when she would fall asleep, she would have despicable dreams about Chuck and wake up with the heavy weight of guilt on her chest and her breath coming in heaving spurts. Writing itself was a more dormant hobby of hers and had been since she'd graduated high school. She really wasn't sure she had a true talent for it, but when she did write (those times were seldom) it was purely for her own gain, and most of the time to help make her feelings known – even if only to a keyboard and virtual blank paper.

Suddenly, Blair was brought out of her reverie-almost-to-sleep thoughts by a few shuffling footsteps and an abrupt stop right outside her door. She was pretty sure that she knew who it was, and sat up, drawing the comforter around herself to cover her silky chemise.

"Mommy?" came the small, timid voice. She saw her daughter walk cautiously into the room, as if she expected monsters to burst out from under the bed and attack her. Clutching her teddy bear – they had already had the talk ("Sweetie, aren't you a bit old for a teddy bear?" "No!" had been the adamant response) – she waddled over, crawling in on the side where Nate would have slept.

"Another nightmare, sweetie?" Blair asked, allowing her daughter to cuddle close to her side before burrowing her face into Blair's armpit and nodding slightly.

She glanced at the clock and saw that it was later than she had thought. She listened to the soft breathing of Adrianna as they both fell asleep, cuddled together exactly how a mother and daughter should be.

_**********_

He wanted to know his goddamn father. So help him, he would do whatever it fucking took to know that man and be his...maybe not friend, but at least general acquaintance.

Somehow, Vic had always known that the man who lived in their house wasn't really his father. He seemed much too aloof to share the same genes as Victor and his brooding self. The man that had been masquerading as his father – Nate – was so very different from him in several other ways as well.

For one thing, Nate seemed to be strictly a one woman man – at every point in his life. And he'd really seemed like a dumbass in the truest sense of the word. At least Vic had some sarcasm and wit, but Nate had just lacked _everything_. He really had the personality of a rock. Victor was built bulkier and had darker hair than Nate, but he had always assumed – while under the allusion that the man named Nate was his father – that he just took after his mom more.

As he sat in his afternoon calc class, Victor eyed Lillian – the _majorly _hot blonde that sat in the front of the room, two rows to the left of him. She was still within perfect seeing distance, because the geek whose name he really didn't care to remember was poring over his book, trying to read ahead. Bert, was that his name? No...it was...he craned his neck to get a better look at Lilly's ass as she bent over, the mission of figuring out the nobody's name long forgotten.

Now, however, Victor was focused on the more important task at hand – contacting his father and demanding answers to those questions that his mother avoided left and right. There was a class worktime at that moment, and he was left on his own to begin a strategic plot. He would have some random brainiac do the assignment later, paying an obscene amount of money so that 'he' could ace it. Currently, it was infinitely more important to figure out how the hell he was going to accomplish the difficult feat of knowing his father better.

It wouldn't be easy, but somehow – deep within him – he knew that he could and would get the job done. He had good genes, or so he thought from everything he had seen his mom do. She didn't think that he saw and heard her scheming, plotting – but he learned from the best, and the best was Blair Waldorf. That was what he believed, anyway.

_A different best, though, is that gorgeous Lillian_, he thought with a smirk as he began a shuffling pursuit of her, stopping by her locker and leaning against the hard metal. It was harder than it looked in those TV shows, where the cool guy always seemed so comfortable.

"Hello, beautiful," he murmured, reaching out to stroke her hair. She raised her eyebrows, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye as she put her books away and then drew out an advanced art text.

"Leave me alone, Vic," she replied routinely, slamming the locker and turning away from him while beginning an unbelievably seductive stroll down the hallway (oh, those hips...).

"You know my dad died, don't you?" He asked, jogging to catch up with her as she walked at the pace of a true track-and-field athlete. So what if he was fibbing – no one really knew that that guy hadn't been his real dad, and they never would if he had anything to say about it. Or pay.

Lilly sighed and said, "Yes, I heard talk to that effect." She turned around once they had reached the door of the art room, where kids gabbed and sketched in hardcover leather books before class began. Damn, she really did walk fast if they were there already.

He looked her up and down, trying not to leer, but he was apparently unsuccessful since she shot him a look that would wilt the brightest and strongest flower. Then the beautiful girl walked into the room without another word, and not sparing him one more glance.

"I really think I'm wearing your defencse down!" he shouted after her before the teacher – a crotchety old lady named Ms. Wilkinson – gave him her own version of a withering glare over her bifocals, and slammed the door shut..

_Oh, the day has just begun_, he thought as he began to walk down the hallway – a jaunt to his step.

_End Note: _Please review. Let me know what you think of Vic, I would really appreciate knowing that (: Also, I know it must seem like he hasn't mourned his "father" Nate, but he will. Let's just say Blair and Chuck won't be the only ones with depressing meltdowns. Victor takes after his father in more emotional and behavioral ways than one, my friends...


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **T for now; some could possibly be M

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **I'm so glad there was such a great response last chapter with Victor's POV being introduced. I really couldn't have asked for better reviews than I got (eight, woah, I was happy :D), and I don't think I can say enough how much the support is appreciated. I will absolutely continue with Vic's POV, there's some unfinished business there, hmm? (; Just another quick thing...um, can anyone beta for a poor soul that desperately needs it? If so, just let me know in a review or a PM. I would SERIOUSLY owe you big time. Summer is a busy season and both of the people that are usually betas for me fell through because they have lives (;. I'm sure it would basically be until Sunday, when I'm hoping this will be done. Maybe Monday? Depends...ha. Again, it would be totally appreciated. I write crap without a beta, really.

**Disclaimer: **I own only the keyboard I type on, Season 1 of Gossip Girl, and the childish feelings of an unrequited love for Charles Bass. Long story short, _not _on that list of things I own is the actual _show. _

This chapter is unbeta'd, so I accept all mistakes and issues with the flow and crap like that.

* * *

As Blair picked at her salad, she felt her children's eyes on her. However, she ignored them irately, putting her fork down on the side of the plate and getting up from the table to re-fill her glass of red wine. When she sat down once again, they were still staring at her.

Was it really _that obvious_?

She looked up at Vic and Adri. When they ducked their heads in embarrassment and shamefulness at being caught, she shook her head. Their concern was sweet, but it was just not needed at that time. She was perfectly fine. At least that was what Blair as trying to tell herself as each day went on; soon, though, she wouldn't be able to fool herself any longer. This whole charade wasn't fooling anyone else, so why should she try believing it herself?

"Hey, little sister, why don't you go grab your social studies test to show Mom. I'm sure she'll be proud," he smiled at Adrianna and when she reluctantly got up from the table, Blair shot her fifteen-year-old son a look of confusion.

"What was that for?" Blair demanded in what she hoped was a motherly tone.

"I want you to tell me what the hell is going on, Mom. I fully consider myself man of the house now – and I accept the responsibility for that – which means that I should always be aware of anything and everything that goes on." He was staring at her seriously and she could only meet his eyes meekly and with a slouching posture.

"It's nothing."

"It's something," came his snarky reply; he was always too much like his father.

"Victor, it doesn't concern you," Blair said sternly. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn't giving up this fight and sighed when he continued to badger her.

"Mother, is your memory that short that I need to give the speech again?" After he said that, his lips twisted into a smirk, and she felt her stomach fall below the floor. Her heart pounded and she tore gaze away from her son's face. When she looked back at Vic, her face was serious and she hoped the expression she wore was convincing.

"I don't need to tell you about my life. _I'm _the adult, _not you_." She rose from the table, going to her room to try and fall asleep, even though it was only 6:30.

_**********_

Even Chuck knew that after three days of being in his room, it was time to get back to a normal lifestyle. That was why he was getting ready for work that day, even though he had a great opposition to anything that didn't involve a fluffy bed, a bottle of scotch, and the complete third season of MASH (it was a guilty pleasure that he'd been introduced to when he was five and Bart put the DVDs in to entertain Chuck while his father was in an important conference call).

As he tied the lace on his Italian loafer, the string broke and he swore, throwing the threads of the expensive lace off to the side in a fit of anger. Chuck sat up and flung the shoe at the wall as well, letting out a low growl that magnified into a yell when it hit the wall and left a black mark on the pristine white paint.

He went to the bathroom to get a wet washcloth in order to clean up the mark on the wall. Chuck glanced at his reflection in the mirror as he tossed the beige cloth in the sink to soak, and gaped at what he saw. His eyes looked worn, tired, and..._old._ He looked like a goddamn geezer from all of the 'manly wallowing' he'd been doing.

While he scrubbed and scrubbed at his wall, he felt a feeling creep over him. It wasn't an itch to party, a thirst for alcohol, or even a taste for some pot. The feeling was one that he couldn't shake as soon as it came over him, and he knew that once it was there, it was there for good. The emotions that were coursing through his veins were need, longing, and...Jesus Christ, love.

So Chuck hadn't been lying when he had told Blair he was still in love with her. At that time, it was a fleeting sort of thing that he wasn't really sure he could verify. Now, though, it was real and he could feel it and it would never, ever go away.

That was what hurt the most about being in love with Blair Waldorf. It never went away.

_*********_

As Victor sat at the kitchen table, rather baffled, he picked up the plates. He figured it wouldn't be so stupid to at least clean up.

If his mother didn't think he knew why she was acting the way she was, then she was either infinitely more naïve than he'd thought, or just foolishly choosing to ignore the fact that he did know. Though if she would rather he weren't privy to her personal life, he was pretty sure that she wouldn't be happy with what he was planning.

He knew the private investigator that his parents had unsuccessfully hid for the past thirteen years very well. The man had become affectionately known as 'Uncle Jerry', when his real name was Nathan, and he had been in the business of private investigation. It had just been exactly the right moment the other day to call him up and let him know that Vic knew what he really did, and that they shared not one drop of blood.

Nathan had given Victor a complete profile on this man named Chuck Bass who was his father, including pictures from when he was younger and several descriptions run-ins with the law that a man who Vic assumed would have been his grandfather had he not died had covered up seemingly without question. When he had seen the picture of his father, he swore it was like looking in a mirror. Add fifteen years to Vic, and he would be an exact clone of Chuck.

His new friend was still trying to find more on the relationship between his mother and...Chuck (he wasn't exactly comfortable calling him daddy, yet). Once Victor knew enough, he planned to confront this Mr. Bass and get those answers that a private investigator couldn't. Of course his mom wouldn't approve; she never really did of anything that he participated in – especially if it was frowned upon by most of sane America.

Plus, this guy had _told him _that they would meet again. Why shouldn't Vic just set that up himself? He was man of the house, after all. It was about time he started taking care of business.

**End Note: **I'm sorry this is so short, everyone; I don't exactly feel comfortable with it either. To me, it feels like there were too many rough patches, and I'm sorry if it really did suck. I have a trip coming up this weekend that I'm busy getting ready for, and it's consuming a lot of my mind-space. I really just wanted this up so people could be a little happier. I still fully plan to get a chapter (possibly two? Who knows) up tomorrow as well, so no worries on updates for this. I would appreciate any and all reviews, as always (:


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **T for now; some could possibly be M

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **Again, I must say that I'm so happy with the great response to this story. I love reading all of your reviews, and they all never cease to make me smile! Also...I am still looking for a beta, if anyone is interested. Thanks!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl

This isn't beta'd, so please accept my apologies for mistakes.

* * *

Chuck sat at the cherry wood desk that had been given to him as a gift from one of his father's former colleagues and was the main attraction in his expansive office. Drumming his fingers on a pile of papers that should have been tended to hours ago, he pretended to be listening to what the men on his conference call were talking about.

They were all incompetent bastards and a total waste of his time. Chuck really shouldn't have been wasting his time dealing with them in the first place, but it was part of the job description, and he did have to keep up appearances. As he listened to the men battle and argue on speaker, Chuck massaged his temples and focused on the small things – little cracks and swirls in the wood of his desk, a speck of dust on his blue paperweight.

"Gentleman, I have some rather important business of my own to attend to," he drawled, finger poised on the 'end' button. They barely acknowledged his leaving as he pressed down on the red button. Obviously they were too interested in themselves and which method of solving the problem would get them the biggest paycheck to care that their boss was leaving.

He turned to face the flat-screen monitor for his computer and placed his fingers atop the keys, praying for something useful to pop into his head. Nothing. Not one thing. Chuck shuffled around, standing up only to sit back down again. He opened one desk drawer before closing it immediately and did the same with the other four drawers in the desk. There was no point to any of this, no method to his madness. That was just it, he was being mad.

She drove him fucking _mad._ It was stupid how much Chuck let Blair affect him. No matter where he was, no matter what was occupying his time, she always managed to find a way to worm herself in – though most of the time, it was more emotional than physical.

Something occurred to Chuck and he sat down at his computer once again, bringing up a file that had been saved not that long ago. His fingers clacked on the keyboard and then his right hand moved over to the mouse where he clicked 'print'. Chuck went over to the printer near the door of his office, picking up the paper, and then walked out. He wouldn't be back anytime soon, so he made sure to lock the door behind himself.

_**********_

Victor fidgeted with the end of the sleeve on his cotton Abercrombie and Fitch shirt and pretended to listen raptly to the lecture his American literature teacher was giving on Madame Bovary. Once Mr. Pumpernickel (that wasn't his real name – it was just easier to pronounce than his true last name, which was Italian and complicated) turned around to the chalkboard, Vic finally turned his attention to the vibrating BlackBerry in his pocket.

He flipped it out in a manner that any other teenage boy would have fumbled the phone during and glanced down at the screen, trying to determine in record time whether or not it was important. At this point, important only classified as Nathan calling or texting; definitely _not _Arnold (his stoned-for-life 'best friend') calling and asking for some more money to bailout his dealer (what could Vic say? He was a fucking masochist at his _best_).

This call was definitely important. He rose from the cheap plastic chair he'd been sitting in and went to the front of the class, ignoring all of the challenging looks from fellow classmates. Victor tapped Pumpernickel on the shoulder and the man jumped so high that – had it been any other person, and not this grouchy geezer – he would have thrown his head back in laughter.

"Sorry, sir. I was wondering if I may use the restroom? Those Swedish meatballs at lunch – man, they're killer." He was good, very good. That was the number one complaint of the teacher that stood in front of him, and the nonchalant way in which he presented his 'predicament' left no gap for suspicion.

"Oh, yes, yes. Please, do not let us suffer any longer in the wake of those little bombers." The old man waved Vic off with his vein-y hand and then turned back to the chalkboard.

On the way out, Victor glanced back into the cluster of students and noticed Lilly looking at him curiously. He winked conspiratorially and she gaped, glaring at him in return; they both knew – as well as the rest of the class, hopefully – that lasagna had been served for lunch today. That didn't really matter, though, since 'ole Pumpernickel's results for that Alzheimer's test he had had performed on himself last week still hadn't come back yet (with what were sure to be alarming results).

Vic locked the stall door carefully after making sure to check every nook and cranny of the bathroom to be absolutely certain that he was alone. Once he was sure that no one was eavesdropping, he sat down and dialed Nathan's phone number, knees rattling with what few jitters he had about uncovering more involving his...involving Chuck Bass.

"Vic! How are ya, kid?" Came Nathan's booming tenor voice through the phone.

"I'm good, for now. Could be better once you tell me what you've got," Victor replied, raising his eyebrows for effect. It didn't matter that the man on the other end couldn't see what his expression was; no, that didn't matter at all.

"You're uh...Well, Chu – Mr. Bass was seen leaving the Bass Industries building only half an hour ago with a determined look. I'm personally checking into it for you; I am actually -" there was what sounded like a shift of clothing on the other end of the line "tailing him right now," Nathan finished in a hushed whisper. Vic heard screeching of metal and what sounded like the halt of a railway and furrowed his brows.

"Where exactly are you?"

"Subway," the man muttered in reply.

"I don't really picture this Chuck Bass guy as being someone that enjoys riding the subway," Victor said skeptically.

"Well, he's right here, Victor. Right in front of me," his private investigator murmured into the phone, obviously trying to not yell. He was upset, Vic could tell. It was probably best to hang up, then.

"Just...lemme know if you get anything else, okay?" He asked brusquely, already standing and flushing the toilet so he wouldn't blow his cover to any passers-by.

"Where you in the john, kid?!" Nathan said at normal volume, sounding shocked.

And then Victor hung up, slipping his phone back into the pocket of his tan Dolce and Gabanna pants. Strolling back to class, he sat down casually, as if nothing had ever happened.

To the rest of the world, nothing had.

_**********_

None of these papers made any sense. It was all gibberish to Blair. She knew after only five minutes of filtering through the legal work that afternoon that she should have taken Serena up on her offer to get Dan – writing fell through and it turned out Dan was a damn good lawyer – to come and assist her.

She picked up her phone and her fingers flew over the keys. When it rung and went straight to the answering machine, Blair huffed and hung up, leaning back against her chair. She dialed again only two minutes later and finally – after three rings – Josie picked up the phone.

"Humphwey wesidence," the four-year-old said. Blair smiled at how adorable her young and tinkly voice was and made her voice extra warm for the little girl.

"Hey sweetie!" Blair gushed over the phone. "It's auntie Blair. Is mommy or daddy there? I really need to talk to them."

There was a clunk as the phone was thrown down – really, money didn't seem to be much of an object for this family anymore (though, for Upper East Siders, it never was, was it?) - on the tan marble counter of their kitchen. Yells could be heard at the Humphrey residence and Blair held the phone away from her fragile ear. Thirty three years of perfect hearing would certainly not be tarnished by one damn phone conversation.

"Yes, hi, hello!" Serena's voice was rushed, as if she had expected Blair to hang up in the time it took Josie to get her parents and for the shifting of the telephone.

"Serena, can you send Dan over to help out with all this legal crap? I'm having more trouble than I ever imagined, and it's the epitome of hell." Blair sighed and rubbed her forehead with one meticulously manicured hand as she listened to her friend.

"Blair, I'm sorry, but when I told you Dan could help...Well, since then, he's gotten put on a big case. He's hardly home anymore, and it's World War III over here. Talk about hell," the blonde replied with exasperation. "I'm really sorry, B."

She could hear the complete sincerity in Serena's voice and felt her heart sink to the bottoms of her feet.

"It's alright, S," she said, pasting that fake smile on her face.

"Good luck!" Serena replied with enthusiasm and encouragement. Blair rolled a few overwhelmed tears back and wiped under her eyes unconsciously.

"Thanks," she mumbled. "Talk to you later." Her voice was flat and either Serena was far too used to that by now, or she was preoccupied by the screaming that had ensued once again.

"Mhm, bye!" And then there was a flat, droning dial-tone, much like the way Blair felt at that moment.

She just didn't have the energy to deal with these things anymore. Blair needed help.

_**********_

Chuck had a strange feeling creeping up on his neck. It was cold and prickly, and he felt as if he was being followed by someone. No matter how many times he turned around, nothing changed and no one was there. Not one person from the crowd that was behind him – the charm of New York included great crowds on every street, in every corner – changed their position. None of them got suspiciously closer to him.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. Yeah, that was it. It was simply Chuck at his worst with paranoia and fright coating his insides.

However, fifteen minutes later, when he abruptly turned around again – almost to his destination – something was different. A man that he recognized from the subway (sometimes Basses took the subway, and there really wasn't anything wrong with it since he was _Chuck Bass_) had gotten a few feet closer to him. He was wearing sunglasses and a dark wool suit that looked freakishly pressed, even to Chuck.

As Chuck slowed, so did the peculiar man. And then he realized what was going on. It surprised him that he hadn't noticed before, since he himself had had men do this exact thing to people that _he _wanted followed. He stopped and the second he did, that man fell into his back (must not have been paying as much attention as was required by the private investigator handbook).

Just as the man was about to make a break for it – surely there were tell-tale signs of knowing on Chuck's face – Chuck grabbed him and wound his elbow around the stranger's neck. Chuck pressed his lips to the man's ear.

"Who sent you, huh jackass?" his voice was low and threatening; it promised that bad and torturous things would happen if the man didn't cooperate.

He shook his elbow and then tightened the grip that it had around his throat. A few gasps told Chuck that the bastard was struggling. Slime-ball, scumbag. All they ever hung around for was money and a little dirt on someone famous. It made Chuck sick now. Of course it was different for him since he trusted his own PI, Arthur.

"Who was it, asshole? Pearson? Cooper?" The man gasped something that sounded like a plea for release and Chuck loosened his arm. The last thing he needed was a homicide on his hands. An explanation was sure to follow, so he might as well just keep the man on an _extremely _short leash.

**End Note: **Sorry for the lateness of the update, againnn ha. Life has been _incredibly _time consuming. Please, if you want to beta, let me know! Hah. My official plan is to have this done by Monday, July 20th. Anyway, review please! They always make my day (or night, right now ;).


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **T for now; some could possibly be M

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **The reviews for the last chapter were so great, and I'll say again how happy I am that everyone seems to be enjoying this story!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl

This isn't beta'd, so please accept my apologies for mistakes.

* * *

"Jesus Christ, man! Can ya just lemme go?" Chuck was still as unrelenting as ever and the man struggled before speaking again. "Damn it, I'll tell you who sent me." He gasped in breath after breath when Chuck let him go. All he had needed to hear in the first place were those words.

"So?" Chuck spat in the man's face. "Who the hell was it?" He looked expectantly at the reasonably-built man that stood in front of him, heaving as if he had just experienced an asthma attack.

"Uh...It was...um..."

"Just tell me, you little bastard!" Chuck launched forward to grab onto the PI once again, but the man ducked away like the little snake that he really was. When the man still stuttered, Chuck did grab him and yanked on his hair, choking him for the second time (okay, so it was probably more than the second time).

"God, let me go!" the wimpy man screamed again, though this time it was shrill.

"Just tell me who it was, god dammit! This is being made so much more harder than it should be, and it's a waste of my time." He glanced at his watch. "I do have more important things to do than come to blows with a plebe PI in the streets of Manhattan."

"Fine...it was Blair Waldorf's kid."

"I'm sorry, come again?"

"Victor Waldorf. He hired me. I've been a friend of the family since Nate asked for my services with a client of his about thirteen years ago." The man shuffled nervously and finally looked up at Chuck.

"I didn't see you at the funeral," Chuck threw back in his face.

"Funerals aren't places for PIs to be seen. I think you – of all people – must know that, Mr. Bass."

"You have no idea what the hell you're talking about, so shut the fuck up." He brought his mouth close to the man's ear – just like earlier, only even closer – so close that he could dart out his tongue and lick it. Then Chuck said, "I want you to discontinue the services for that _minor _immediately, and maybe I won't call the cops about how you're offering services to someone that is definitely. Not. An. Adult." He enunciated each final word with a pull of the private investigator's hair, eliciting a sharp intake of breath each time.

"Fine, fine! Please, just let me go!" the man practically mewed out in a pathetic tone. Chuck shoved him against the wall – just for good measure – before walking inside the apartment building. He sure hoped that the wrath he had just thrown upon the jerk on the street wouldn't have to be endured by the woman he was about to see that afternoon.

_**********_

Blair futzed around in the kitchen – why did she seem to be doing so much of that lately? A distraction, possibly? - mindlessly, picking up dish after dish only to lay them back in the sink because Blair Waldorf _never _did dishes. Why did she need to dirty her hands now?

Just when she was about to grab a crossword book – the house got so dull during the day, and those papers were laying in a drawer, taunting her, telling her that she was a weakling for not just facing them head-on – Blair heard a knock at the door and flipped around. She was suddenly rather afraid of whoever was there, so she tiptoed, making sure that the person there would definitely not be able to hear her. Looking through the peephole, it was none other than Chuck Bass.

That crossword book just got a _lot _more interesting.

Blair turned around as if nothing had happened and strode nonchalantly back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her and making sure to lock it. She picked up a pencil and curled up on her bed, making sure the pillows were placed just so before she plopped down. The first crossword, dealing with names of celebrities, was relatively easy and she finished in a short amount of time before moving onto the next puzzle.

Half an hour later, the book was finished. Sure it gave a pretty big boost to Blair's crossword ego, but other than that, it didn't solve any problems in her life – like the fact that Chuck was probably still outside her door. Standing up, she started to walk towards the front of the spacious apartment and made sure to get quiet when she was nearing the door.

Peeking through the little piece of glass that was the peephole, Blair saw him – with his head leaned back against the wood of the door in a defeated manner – and stepped back instantly. A large thud could be heard and she watched in horror as an expensive vase given to her by her mother for a Christmas long ago tumbled to the carpeting. Luckily, it did not break, but that wasn't the point.

"Blair, I know you're in there." She didn't have to look through the peephole this time to know that Chuck was right up against the door with his face pressed against it. Shrinking back, Blair swallowed a laugh about how ridiculous all of this was. She shouldn't feel like a prisoner in her own _home_! She had the right to open that door and tell him to leave, threatening to call the police if he didn't follow her wishes.

But Blair was afraid. She was afraid of him and what he could and would do to her. She was scared to find out the reason that Chuck had come here to see her when she had specifically asked him – not that long ago – to just leave her alone. Most of all, though, Blair was frightened of what _she _would do. She was scared of herself, more than she cared to admit. And she knew that as soon as that door swung open, Chuck would see it and play off of it, reading her like a book.

"Come on, just open the door." He said again quietly. She looked through the hole experimentally once again, and saw that his lips were pressed against the door. "Please." His rasping voice was pleading and crackly as he begged for entrance. Blair felt her heart sag in her chest and she began to turn the knob slowly, looking through the little piece of glass the entire time.

_**********_

Vic was walking in the halls during his fifth period break when he felt his phone's vibrations for the second time that day. He took it out as discretely as he could, hiding behind some buff freshman from the football team to conceal his transgression. As he examined the screen, his eyes squinted at the small font. One little glance and he pressed the green button to answer. He didn't care where he was at that moment; if Nathan was calling again, it couldn't have been good.

"What's up?" he asked, looking around him to check and see if there were any people trying to listen and find out information about the 'glamorous' life of Vic Waldorf-Archibald.

"He caught me, and I told him that you sent me."

Victor went back into the bathroom, since this didn't seem like the type of talk to be had while he was in the hustle and bustle of a high school hallway during passing time.

"What now? I think there must have been a bad connection, because the real job of a private investigator is to _not get caught_," Vic sneered into the phone. He sat on the same toilet from earlier and his mouth upturned in distaste at the way that the bathroom was built – one would think that a private school as expensive as St. Jude's could at least get some nicer bathrooms, maybe even with a goddamn attendant?

"The asshole was about to freakin' murder me in broad daylight! What the hell was I supposta do, kid?!" Nathan's Brooklyn accent was peeking through more than before, and Victor winced after the sentence was out in the open.

"Get killed," Vic muttered, only meaning for it to be heard by himself.

"Hey! I'm practically related to you, boy," the private investigator spat over the phone. _Guess he did __hear, _Vic mused with a smirk on his lips.

"Well then, you probably could have done a better job of hiding my identity, huh, _Uncle Jerry_?" he snipped, mouth set in a firm line. There were no other words said between the two 'relatives', and before Vic knew it, there was a dial-tone on the other end of the line. Shaking his head, Victor stood and left the bathroom.

He'd be skipping fifth period today. And every fucking period after that.

_**********_

Chuck was still outside the door of Blair's apartment, but somehow, even through there, he could feel her resolve weakening. She was losing the battle that she always fought where it concerned him. It was like a sixth sense for him to realize these sorts of things about her; he always knew everything when it came to Blair Waldorf. The woman was so easy for him to read, though he knew that he was the only person on earth that was gifted with this honor of being able to understand her so well. To everyone else, she was a baffling creature with manipulative powers.

"Let. Me. In," he murmured against the oak wood of the apartment door. Chuck hadn't really meant for it to be seductive, but it must have been, because the door opened and revealed Blair, looking as beautiful as ever. He took a few steps forward and examined the apartment to see if anything had changed since his last visit. Nothing had.

"I asked you to leave me alone," she stated matter-of-factly. Chuck knew that she was only saying that for herself, to convince herself that Chuck shouldn't be there and she still didn't want him there. Blair liked to pretend to be stubborn, but Chuck new better. Any sour mood of hers was a mask for something else, something deeper.

"And yet you opened the door," Chuck said quietly, turning around and flashing her a small smile. He saw the shift in her eyes, meaning that he had caused something to surface that she was definitely denying at that moment.

_**********_

Blair looked away from him and stared at the floor, unable to form words and choosing to cry like a little baby instead. The tears were quiet, and stayed in her eyes, but it was the fact that she let enough vulnerability unmask itself to allow those tears to form in the first place that upset her even more. Desperate for something to do while in his presence, she went into the parlor, grabbing the feather duster and getting imaginary specks of dust off of the mantle.

He was right behind her within seconds; Blair could smell him all around her. Chuck invaded her senses, making her completely numb and unable to form one coherent thought. His thigh was unconsciously (or maybe more consciously since he was Chuck Bass) pressed against the side of hers as she turned while 'dusting'. The soft cloth on the bottom of his pants brushed her bare ankle (dammit, why didn't she wear slacks in anticipation of this? Oh yeah, because Chuck was unpredictable) and she felt goosebumps form in the wake of the small brush.

"I think you got every speck," he whispered on the nape of her neck. Blair knew that he knew that what he was doing was like her kryptonite. Slow and simple seduction that wasn't even really seduction. It was the accidental brushes and little feelings that set her off – those were what got Blair going, and Chuck knew that better than anyone. Especially more than Nate.

She instantly regretted that mental comment, and was about to tell Chuck off for his verbal one. However, when Blair turned around, he was right in her face. His mouth was millimeters from hers and caused an involuntary shiver to tear through every nerve-ending in her small body. The ripples came in little increments afterwards and Chuck prayed on her weakness. Of course he knew that it was the wrong thing to do, but Blair knew as well as anyone that Chuck never did anything the way that people – the way that society – accepted it.

His lips just barely tickled hers and his eyes were hooded as they tried to meet hers for some sort of sign. She let her own eyes fall closed and awaited the inevitable. She had known that it would happen since she'd first seen Chuck when he arrived at the funeral. It was one of those things that set the entire universe off-balance if it _didn't _happen. When Chuck didn't advance any further, Blair's eyes shot open again and met his wide ones, which were still searching hers.

Fuck it.

She grabbed the back of his neck roughly and dragged his face to hers, meshing their lips together and feeling an overwhelming emotion that she really couldn't explain or place. As his tongue teased her lips open, she felt relief wash over her entire body – from head to the very tips of her toes – and desire tickled every space of her brain that had been previously occupied.

_**********_

After what seemed like only seconds of pleasure-filled kissing that Chuck really hadn't realized he'd missed so much, they were stumbling – falling – back towards her bedroom, where he courteously stopped in the doorway to give her a once-over and ask telepathically if this was how she wanted things to play out. Her teeth found the pulse point on the nape of his neck (she still remembered that? Jesus, she was a little minx) and nipped softly, letting her tongue dart out to sooth the pain that was never there in the first place.

Those papers were just going to wait again. They would always wait, because, compared to this, they were completely unimportant.

_**********_

Vic jogged through the streets of the Upper East Side – dashing to his apartment – after his cab dropped him off. The ride home from school had been filled with thoughts of what was to come. His mother would be furious. Hell, she'd probably ground him for life and make him a goddamn social pariah. But maybe if he got there in time...

He ran up the steps – going at full-speed now – and finally made it to the door. It was wide open and when he walked in, he stopped dead in his tracks. There were thuds as various items crashed to the floor deep inside the apartment. Did his mom have some appointment and forget to lock the door behind herself? Even she wasn't that stupid...but sometimes she really did forget the most necessary things.

Victor walked slowly – prowled, more like – farther into the apartment and grabbed the fake ficus plant (it was pretty well rooted in and seemed like a decent weapon), ready to bash in the head of whatever intruder was there. He stopped again when he saw what was making all the noise. His mother and that...that man who was supposed to be his father were falling back against the bed and groping one another as if they hadn't seen each other in centuries.

Fuck his life. It was a shitty one, anyway. It sure was shitty if the father that he had never even known was screwing his mom while he was forced to watch and they remained oblivious.

Vic walked out, but he decided to close the door carefully. His scheming side peeked through as he realized that he could use this to his advantage later on, so it was best to leave quietly and not let them know until later.

When he could make their lives pure _hell_.

**End Note: **I hope that this suffices for everyone until Monday...well, I mean, possibly. I'm on vacation right now and enjoying the wonderful company of family, but I did manage to do this when it was (relatively) quiet and calm. Right now, I'm figuring that the next chapter will be the final one, posted on Monday evening. Then again, I may have two smaller ones instead if I am able to do something tomorrow. I do have things to do though, haha. So, review please! It would be so so so appreciated (:


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **This chapter is most definitely _**RATED M.**_

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **Thank you all for the sweet reviews last chapter. I'd like to give a special shout-out to all the anonymous reviewers, who I don't get to give review-replies to. So many of you have stuck with the story the entire way, and that's totally appreciated. This isn't the last chapter. I had a late night last night and was too tired to write, and then an eight hour drive today. This story will be done after fifteen chapters on Wednesday. I hold myself to that stubbornly, haha.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl

Because of my impatience in wanting to get this up, I didn't send it to a beta. My apologies, once again.

* * *

Chuck's hand drew small circles on the small of Blair's back – just above the curve of her behind – as she lay with the back of her own body against the front of his. He drank in her milky skin for the first time in what felt like eternity and leaned forward, his lips puckered to trail adoring kisses down her spine and then back up. She shivered and her body snuggled back closer to his, making him stir far below, but then still.

Cuddling had never been his forte, really. It had never been something he understood. But with Blair, it was natural and easy to repeat (much like other, more seductive aspects of their relationship). During their first time together, they had fallen onto the floor of his limo and her small body was cold and covered with goosebumps from the bitter air of late October. So, Chuck had reached out and grasped her again, holding her body flush against his for the remainder of the ride. It had been a comforting gesture at the time, and ever since, the loving embrace that they shared after passionate love-making was just a regular habit of Chuck and Blair's.

"Mmm," she moaned contentedly. "This is nice..." Blair turned around and looked at him, the softest of smiles decorating her full lips. He smiled right back at her in response, his lips moving against her bare breast. Blair turned fully, using her waist, and buried her head into his chest. Chuck put his right hand on top of her head and rubbed it back and forth softly, absentmindedly.

He smirked when she abruptly rose her head from his chest and slid down the length of his body, stopping just before the tops of his thighs as mini Chuck greeted her warmly, rising up to attention. Blair looked back up at Chuck, whose head had raised from the pillow where he had been resting (to watch, of course), and gave him a devilish smile before lowering her head onto his member.

_**********_

She didn't do anything forward at first, just looked closely at the throbbing extension of Chuck's body – examining every vein that she swore was new in the last fifteen years. Blair was forced to re-memorize his lusciously inviting body and did so without much encouragement on Chuck's part (though she was sure it was much the same for him).

Growing impatient, he wiggled his lower half down further on the bed so that it was closer to her face (as if it really _needed _to be). Acquiescing, Blair played with his balls, fingering them lightly and teasing the coarse hairs that were there with the tips of her fingernails. She kissed up and down every side of his length and then gave one long lick up to the top before taking him fully into her mouth, getting rewarded with a moan that showed no effort of being held back.

His breathing was shallow and quick as she swirled her tongue around and around, and he grabbed her head, massaging her scalp in thanks, but not making her take him any deeper. She heard her name fall from his lips and smiled around his big bulge, drawing her lips up as he let out an emasculate whimper of loss. She kissed the head and then dropped her lips down to his thighs.

Getting dangerously close to his penis, she pressed featherlight kisses on the insides of his thighs and on each one of his hips. Chuck's head whipped from side to side as she continued to torture him and finally – before he forced her – she moved her head up and enveloped him in her hot mouth again.

_**********_

"Oh, fuck, Blair," Chuck whispered. His head had risen again as he watched her gorgeous face go up and down him at an alarming pace. Hands gripping the sheets, Chuck let out a growl that morphed into a load groan as he exploded into her mouth. She licked and sucked him off happily as he thrust up into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat, but – strangely – not causing her gagging reflex to trigger.

Once Chuck was satisfied and his unknown need was sated, Blair crawled back up his body and looked into his eyes expectantly. He smirked and shifted, his hardness hitting the middle of her calf and making her eyes close in anticipation. She lay on top of him, awaiting what was so obviously inevitable, with her chest heaving and touching his with each rough breath that she drew in.

He grabbed the back of her butt and positioned it over his throbbing and hot member. She hesitated, looking at him meaningfully.

"I'm not ready to do this....like this, again, Chuck. It was too much the last time." Her voice was serious, and he watched her attentively as she pulled open a drawer on what must have been Nate's bedside table at one point. She fit the condom over him and then sank down slowly, darting out her tongue to moisten her lips before biting down hard as she grabbed his hair.

_**********_

Blair rose up and sank down slowly each time as Chuck began to thrust up, meeting her. Her bottom lip slipped from between her teeth, and her hands slid down to grasp his broad shoulders as she pushed her breasts into his chest and shimmied her bottom half down further. His cock stroked a different place inside of her in a delicious way that caused Blair to purr directly into his ear.

After what seemed like only three seconds, Blair felt herself unraveling at a steady pace as Chuck drove into her at high speed, trying to satisfy them both in ways that they hadn't experienced in so long. Blair's insides coiled and then – obviously in the mood to be a teasing bastard – he stopped, mid-stroke. It couldn't have been very pleasing to him, either, but she knew that that particular fact didn't matter to him. He wanted one thing. And goddamnit, she would give it to him.

"Chuck!" she wailed, slamming down and causing him to push back up with primal characteristics. She began a mantra of 'yes, yes, yes' as he continued to push her so far towards the edge. She could feel the springs inside of her slowly uncoiling until – finally, at last – they sprung her free, off into an oblivion that Blair could never get enough of. It was the world of Chuck Bass's pleasure.

With three more size-able thrusts, Chuck grunted and spent himself, clutching at her back desperately and smoothing down her tousled hair as she lay on his chest and allowed him to finish off his own orgasm. Moments later, Blair rolled off of him and spooned against his chest once again. It was as if nothing had ever even happened. Like no time had passed since they had gotten back to business only...Jesus, thirty minutes? They sure were getting good at this – and _fast_, too. Definitely rivaling their teenage selves.

Blair moaned so softly that it could have been considered a sigh as Chuck's arm draped around her side and his fingers drummed on her flat, milky stomach. Her eyes drifted closed as a smile settled onto her face. She would have time to feel overly-guilty about this being so soon after her _husband –_ Nate's – death later. Right now, she concentrated on Chuck's far-away-sounding hums of a tune that he only sang to her when he was at his highest peak of happiness – Love me Do, by the Beatles.

Life was good, for that moment. And that moment was the only one that mattered. The future, the past, they were all far away from Blair because for once, she was just living life second by second without plans and organization.

_**********_

Vic knocked on the Humphrey's door, remembering that his mom had set up a play-date for Adri and Josie the previous afternoon. His original plan was to get some gin in good old Mrs. H. (she always loved an afternoon martini) and find out more about Chuck Bass and his mother. The more that he knocked, the less of a response the fifteen-year-old got, though.

Turning on his heel, Victor stomped off of the front porch of the family's porch, angry as hell.

How would his damn plan work now?

**End Note: **Short, but there will be another chapter tomorrow. No worries. Reviews make me giggle like a child at Christmas (;


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning)

**Rating: **This is rated T again.

**Classification: **Well, sad...but it'll get happy, or you can all kill me.

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **I was sorta hoping for more than four reviews the last chapter, but this is for loyal readers, who always review and have stuck with this unfailingly. All of you are the greatest!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl

Oh, this still isn't beta'd because I was impatient again. Sorry.

* * *

Blair woke up after a peaceful night of sleep. Wait, it was a _full night._ That meant that, at some point, Victor must have come home. He must have come home and seen...Oh, shit. Blair turned around to face Chuck. But what she hadn't realized in her panicked thoughts about Vic was that Chuck's arm _wasn't _around her. He _wasn't _in bed with her.

She thought for a minute, rubbing her temple and trying to remember the times she had woken up in the night. There was one time – at about four A.M. - when she felt Chuck shift and then his grasp on her tightened. When Blair had craned her neck to glance at him, however, he was completely still in bed – right next to her – where he belonged.

All of a sudden, she heard a noise that came from somewhere inside of her large apartment. Once Blair had rubbed her eyes and attempted to bring her senses to life more, it occurred to her that the sound was coming from the living room. Listening a little bit harder, she found that the sound of a television morning show could be heard.

Of course. That was where Chuck was, in the living room. He'd probably only fixed her breakfast and was awaiting her rise from the bedroom. Therefore, she got up from bed, walking over to her mirror to examine her just-woke-up appearance. She had definitely seen worse in her life. A few strokes of her brush and two Certs later, she had reached early morning perfection, Blair Waldorf style.

As she strode out into the bright light that bathed the rest of her home, Blair made sure to tiptoe. Somewhat like a child, she wanted to surprise him. She loved to see the huge smile that covered Chuck's lips when she came up behind him and grabbed his hands, which were often busy doing something else. She would press up against his back and he would...

He wasn't there, either. Adrianna was sitting in front of the television, eating a fresh bagel with blackberry jam, but Chuck was nowhere near her. Blair casually walked into the kitchen, expecting to find him hiding in the closet that housed her many Teflon pots and pans. Opening the door, it was obvious that he wasn't hiding in there, either. She checked a couple more places in the kitchen where her children had often played hide-and-seek when they were younger.

After sweeping her eyes around a few more places in the home, Blair finally deduced that Chuck had left. He'd left her again, and for some reason, this fact still surprised it. It shouldn't have been so shocking, since it was what he had always done. But, to her, it seemed like he had changed. His ways were different, and – overall – he was just a totally different person. That was _before _that he would leave her after a little nighttime tryst. He would slink away into the dark dawn of day, before she was aware of anything but the dreams in which she lived during sleep.

Now, though, Chuck Bass seemed genuinely reformed. It was as if he were a totally different man than the one she had fallen in love with so long ago (and had stayed in love with), but still he was the same. He had changed in the ways that she wished at her darkest moments in which she doubted everything she had. Like he could read her mind, he changed for her. And Blair had thought he was in love with her, as she was with him. Or was that whisper across her collarbone only the night before a vicious and cutting lie too – just like everything else he had said?

That was _before_, though. She was convinced that he had changed. Blair Waldorf _knew _Chuck and she knew when something had been altered in his state of being. He was an old book that she had paged through so many times – a dictionary in which she had memorized all the words and meanings. Chuck was a fond memory, but at the same time, he was an intense reality that she lived with now.

And those were the reasons that she went out into the cold and clammy air of the early Spring morning, in search of Chuck Bass.

_*********_

Chuck hadn't wanted to leave her like that, in the dead quiet of a New York morning. He had to, though. Knowing that Adri would be up in a matter of minutes for school, Chuck knew that he needed to leave. There couldn't be any drama around himself and Blair, especially when he was the one that was causing all of it. Still, he didn't ever want to leave Blair like that again. He hurt _himself _when he did that, because she always looked so angelic and at peace while asleep.

The thirty-three-year-old man was walking the crowded sidewalks of the Upper East Side, trying to clear his mind. As unorthodox as his method of calming down may have seemed on the surface, all of the honks and sounds of people chatting away on their cellphones was music to his ears. That noise was his escape, like having a mid-afternoon shiatsu at the parlor on Seventh.

Her moans invaded his inner ear and outer mind, though, and he could still feel her adoring nips on the nape of his neck, covered by the collar of his crisp cotton shirt. Blair was taking him over – she was invading every possible unoccupied (and even some that were occupied) space of his body and the fond memories he had of her refused to relent or let go.

Suddenly, a pair of large hands grabbed Chuck's shoulders and yanked him into a nearby alleyway. He assumed it was that asshole of a PI again, getting him back for his own previous assault of the man. Alas, it wasn't him. It was a boy no older than fifteen, looking him straight in the eye with an anger he hadn't seen in...Well, the last time Chuck had seen it was a very long time ago, when _he himself _had been wearing it.

"You son of a bitch!" Victor said, his voice cracking as it rose several decibel levels in too short an amount of time. The boy did nothing to harm him – Chuck suspected it was some sort of unconscious fright of hurting his own father – and only shoved him back against the wall before stalking away, pacing to the other side of the alley and slamming his hand into the brick wall before he stomped back (Chuck fought back a smirk at how alike they seemed at that very moment in time) and got right back in Chuck's face.

"Vic, look..."

"You do _not _call me that, you jerk-off!" He yelled, slamming his fist into the wall only about a foot away from Chuck's face. Okay, maybe there were a few things to be worried about.

"I'm sorry I was never here." Chuck said this simply and softly, hoping that it would suffice, because it had been all he had wanted to hear from his own father at that age. He'd figured Vic would respond as Chuck once would have, but he sure as hell didn't.

_**********_

"Oh, so you think _that's _what I'm talking about, you asshole?!" Victor pinned Chuck once again, anger pulsing through his veins and tears burning the backs of his retinas. He moved his hands from his...his _father's_...chest and moved away again, backing towards the brick wall.

"What else would you be talking about?" Chuck asked, his eyes shifting uncomfortably. Good. Vic wanted the bastard to feel uncomfortable.

"I saw you, pawing my _mother _last night. Your hands were all over her like she was some hooker you picked up at a goddamn bar, you motherfucker!" He knew his words were slightly uncalled for, and probably disrespectful to his newly-acknowledged father, but at that point in time, he really did not care.

"Victor..." Vic silenced Mr. Bass with a glare that could have easily broken glass. "Kid, it wasn't anything that wasn't mutual, got it? We're both adults...we knew what we were doing." The older man's voice contained finality and almost a...fatherly tone, strangely enough. The shitface barely knew him, yet he still had the nerve to speak to him with the authority of a father.

_Nate _was his real dad, he knew it. This was all a fucked-up fluke. Maybe he was lying in a hospital bed somewhere, in a coma, or just dreaming, and it was all a damn dream. It could have been a hallucination, a figment of his imagination. Perhaps, to passers-by, he was only speaking to thin air, swatting at nothing in particular, and looking like a general, run-of-the-mill ignorant idiot.

This Chuck character...he wasn't real. He couldn't be real if he hadn't been there for Victor. Deep down, he knew that he really was a decent person, who deserved to have had a constant dad for his entire life – not a man who was a fraud and liar (though he knew that Nate did have his best interests in mind). As Victor let out a sob, though – vulnerability oozing from the seams of his being – he felt this man's arms wrap around him in an awkward mimic of something like a hug.

It was meant for comfort, he knew, but all it was was supplementation. The grasp of Chuck was something that Vic never really knew he'd been missing in life. It was a necessity, an essential puzzle piece in his adolescence (hell, his entire damn life) that just felt right. The warmth of his _father's _(the word was thought with confidence and pride now; the man in front of him was his _father_) hands on his back was a comfort, and like a ray of light that had come from out of the blue, everything was right again.

The moment was bittersweet, to say the least. And that was when Victor Waldorf chose to welcome this Chuck Bass fellow into the role of father with open arms and encouragement.

_**********_

Blair looked outside as all of the buildings whooshed by the window of the limo she had called. She felt the need to be noticed – though in the Upper East Side of New York, limos were not exactly _un_common. There, on the right, was Central Park. She politely asked the driver if he could just drop her off there, saying that she would most definitely be calling back later for a ride home.

As she walked through the bright green grass of the well-kept park, Blair admired the tall trees that were just beginning to bloom into their Summer selves. On the bottoms of their trunks were circles of flowers, peppering each patch of dark brown mulch and adding a liveliness to the outdoors that Blair had never really noticed before. Aesthetics hadn't ever really been her thing, but now that she was older – wiser, even – the woman realized that one needed to appreciate these things.

Blair looked up and moved her eyes around, scanning the park meticulously, making sure she took in every detail possible. There was a man on a park bench that was close to the eastern edge of the expanse of emerald grass who looked exactly like Chuck, but when he turned to her – obviously sensing a creepy and strange woman who was stalking him for no reason – she realized that his face lacked the eyes that she so adored.

While she continued to travel through the park, she thought of Nate. Back in high school, they had spent loads of time here. Granted, most of the time, he was stoned. Then, though, Blair had been far too naïve to care about it. Now she realized that at that time, he never really loved her. But in the past thirteen years, Nathanial Archibald had given her his name, and a beautiful baby girl that was showered with love day in, day out. She should have felt upset, angry at him for the way he left things when he passed away.

Somehow, she knew that he wouldn't have wanted her to hold such a grudge. Deep down, Nate was a smart man who knew so much about life. He was wise beyond his years and knew how to let people in and love them. But when he got hurt enough, he would burn bridges and tear down the years of love he had with that other person. That was all that had happened.

However, with passing on came closure and forgiveness. Not only had Blair unthinkingly forgiven him, but she was sure that with his death came his own acceptance of her and the way that she was. This was the reason she couldn't feel guilty about Chuck. Nate would have wanted her happiness above all, and she knew that if that meant riding an elephant off into the sunset of an African night, he would have been as happy as she.

Blair belonged with Chuck. And Nate understood, she could feel it. Even from beyond the grave, he gave his nod of encouragement and consent to live her life happily and close his chapter, because he was gone.

Finally, when Blair reached the southern-most edge of the large park – after nearly forty-five minutes of walking – there he was. He sat on a park bench, head in hands, face wearing the expression of concentrated contemplation. Suddenly, Chuck perked up and looked at her, his eyebrows raised and face breaking into a heartbreaking smile.

Nothing else mattered except him.

**End Note: **Last chapter tomorrow...I'm so sad...But at the same time, it feels great to put another story under my belt, to have another chapter of my imagination filed away in the virtual-ness of FanFiction, haha. Review please? Thanks.


	15. Chapter 15

**Title: **Bittersweet Welcome

**Author: **BookCaseGirl (Abby)

**Date: **June 27, 2009 (Beginning); July 22, 2009 (End)

**Rating: **This is rated T again.

**Classification: **Happy ending for all (:

_**Summary: After fifteen years away in Hong Kong, Chuck Bass returns to the Upper East Side for a sad event. When he sees all of his old friends and acquaintances – Blair in particular – he decides to stay for good, and finds out several pieces of life-changing information.**_

**Author's Note: **Thank you again to all who stuck with this story and reviewed every chapter. It's all done now, and I am happy with the ending (: I hope it does not disappoint! Oh, this chapter has only Chuck and Blair's POV, as I officially closed off Vic's last chapter. I'm hoping I got his ending right? ha

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Gossip Girl -sad sigh-

Thanks to Michelle for all of her help and encouragement on this chapter! (:

* * *

For just that point in time, all Chuck wanted to do was hold her against him. His body felt such an emotional – and physical, for that matter – loss from the few hours that he had been away from Blair. She literally completed him, made him whole and happy all the time. When he was in her arms – even just when she touched him for the briefest moment – and when she was in his, it was heaven on earth and the true definition of love. None of those other bozos knew what this was, it was a unique being in and of itself.

This love was something that he and Blair shared and they always would share it. Together, they were capable of anything and everything. If only Chuck had learned this sooner, though. If only, if only. Because if he had been aware of how great this was – and what a once-in-a-lifetime experience he was having then – he would never have left her.

Chuck wished he had never left Blair.

They'd missed out on so very much, and fifteen years was a long time to be apart from the person that you...that you loved. He and Blair had a lot to make up for (sexual things included, of course). She seemed as willing as he was to make things work, no matter what the obstacles were and what was in the past. This was here, this was now, and this was them. It was all that mattered to him, truth be told.

"God, I missed you," he murmured into the side of her head, inhaling the beautifully natural scent of her hair.

"I wasn't gone long," she said back, her voice soft as she looked at him and smoothed back a few unruly strands of his hair with the tips of her fingers. He leaned into her touch and closed his eyes. Her hands were like feathers brushing across him – definitely welcome, but teasingly annoying sometimes.

"I still missed you," Chuck argued back, though his defense system was wearing and what should have been a strong-willed voice came out only as a meek whisper as he gazed into her eyes with his own light caramel ones.

"I missed you too," Blair replied, relenting and relaxing in his arms. Chuck grasped her tighter against him and took her towards a bench that was only about three yards from where they had been standing before. They fell onto it, still in each other's grasp. One clutched desperately for the other on the bench, never wanting to let go.

Chuck melted into her, making himself become a part of her, though he knew that he always had been and always would be. The mood began to turn a bit more serious as Chuck felt Blair begin to shake within his grasp. A few sniffles escaped and he craned his neck so that he could look at her face. Kissing her temple, he pulled away and simply looked at her.

_**********_

"What is it?" he asked her softly, eyes burning a hole into her soul. His hands were enveloping her own, and Blair felt her resolve slip away and dissolve all around her. The pads of his thumbs brushed across the tops of her hands, and suddenly it didn't matter that she was professing feelings to Chuck Bass. It mattered a long time ago, but not now. He really had changed, and if she wasn't mistaken _she _had been the one to change him. That knowledge gave her a great feeling and the confidence to plow forward.

"You can't leave me like that again," she whispered through a sob as her body shook beneath his grasp. Chuck squeezed her tighter and she snuggled into his chest, breathing in the scent that she had been without for a day. "It hurts too much. You hurt me when you weren't there this morning, Chuck. I..." the tears fell down her face, but for a different reason now – happiness. Here she was, in his arms, right where she belonged.

"I won't," he murmured into her neck as he peppered it with kisses and brought her even more impossibly close to his body. "I swear to God I won't, Blair. I am so sorry." His eyes found hers again and she held his gaze this time. There was no room for shying away now. This was them, raw and beautiful as ever. And they could conquer anyone, anything, that got in their way. Everything would work. And so she told him, her voice thick with the salty wet tears that fell from her eyes. She was not ashamed of those tears, because for once, they were appropriate. This was a happy moment – almost a milestone – and tears fit the situation.

"We'll figure everything out, Chuck, we will. Vic, Adri, they'll adjust. Everything will work out, I swear to you. I love you," Blair said softly, looking up into his eyes with the confidence that she felt at that moment in time.

The sun peeked out from beyond a large, fluffy cumulus cloud and it was like a sign. Rays shone on her face, and she didn't squint her eyes. She wanted to see his face – completely sincere and serious – when he said it. Because the expression he got when he told her that he loved her was priceless and heart-swelling. It brought warmth to her body, and euphoria to her soul.

"I love you too," Chuck nodded to confirm the confession that he'd known to be true since he had arrived, a little over a month ago. His face had changed in those fifteen years. Wrinkles from late nights at Bass Industries disappeared as he smiled at her and she smiled back, because that was who they were and what they did. All the bickering, all of the obviously fake hatred – that all led up to this.

And, like a curtain closing on a play, he kissed her, the final scene before intermission in the black and white movie that she still played in her head. His lips tested her boundaries – as if they needed to be tested anymore – and his tongue tasted her mouth, re-exploring her. Blair did the same, her hand rubbing the side of his face in minuscule movements that she knew only he would ever inspire from her. Her hands moved to the back of his neck, grasping the hairs lightly. There was no needed for tugs of passion on the brown hair that lay on the bottom of his neck, because this kiss lacked their normal desperate passion. Instead, it held a loving passion, appropriate for the occasion. Finally, with three more pecks that showed how much they didn't want to break contact, the two pulled away, foreheads touching.

"Then we will figure it out," Blair repeated, pulling back to look into his eyes. He put his hand on top of her dark mane of hair and maneuvered it so that her head was tucked beneath his chin. He rubbed the bottom of his jaw across the crown of her head and ran his hands up and down her back comfortingly, letting her know that he would always be there.

"We will." The words were said with finality – a promise of the definite future that lay ahead of them.

They would both always be there for each other. They were Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck – unbreakable and unstoppable. Forever and always with one another. No longer was it bitter, but sweet.

**End Note: **Please let me know what you thought of this! Even if you were a person that lurked in the shadows and read without reviewing, a little comment would be wonderful. Thanks again to all anonymous and … uh … not-anonymous reviewers who left me such great feedback for this story! Oh yeah....sequel starts in two weeks, everyone (:


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